


Rimmer's Return

by cazflibs



Series: The Ace Chronicles [7]
Category: Red Dwarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-01
Updated: 2009-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a year before 'Back to Earth'. Ten years after leaving Starbug, Rimmer must return to the Dwarfers to stop the simulants from finding the Jadestone. But time can change a man, and not always for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> First published in July 2009, this fic concludes the 'Ace Chronicles' - a series of stories that cover the ten years Rimmer was away as Ace.

***********

In this farewell,

There's no blood,

There's no alibi.

\- Linkin Park, What I've Done

***********

Lister had been thinking that things were just about getting back to normal on Red Dwarf.

Well, as normal as you can get when you're stuck on a ship five miles long and three miles wide, you're three million years into deep space, and the only people you have for company are a nanobotically-resurrected version of your dead bunkmate, a sanitation mechanoid that's missing his sanity chip, a creature who'd evolved from the ship's cat, and a once all-knowing computer who now had trouble counting to ten.

The resurrected crew had deserted Red Dwarf when the virus had attacked eight years earlier, leaving the Dwarfers alone with the remaining one-hundred inmates of the Tank; those too sick, too deranged, or too dangerous to be saved. Within hours of the crew abandoning ship, the metal-corroding virus had spread from Talia's escape pod in the landing bay to the water tank above Floor 13. The resulting flood had drowned them all before the others had a chance to bring the antidote back from the mirror universe.

The Remembrance Garden had been constructed in one of the observation pods on Red Dwarf's port side to remember those that they'd lost, more out of a continuing sense of human dignity and respect that still remained three million years after the human race became extinct.

And then she'd died.

And Lister's world had fallen apart.

Kryten had seen it all. Kochanski had been heading out on a space walk to continue their three-month project to repair the solar panels. The airlock had de-pressurised ninety seconds early and the doors opened, dragging her helplessly into deep space.

They'd never found the body.

The picture of her pinball smile had been added to the others in the garden, where Lister now sat alone. The orchids he'd picked from the ship's botanical gardens lay silently by her photograph.

"Hey you," he smiled sadly to her beaming smile.

The hum of the ship's engine echoed through the glass dome, the eternal starlight twinkling.

In the eighteen months since her death, Lister had visited the grave once a week, or whenever the grief got a bit too much in the empty loneliness of deep space. He carefully wiped off an invisible layer of dust from the glass frame and sighed, unable to think of what to say.

"Still stuck out here," he laughed quietly, devoid of mirth. He frowned to mask the unshed tears that quivered in his eyes as he wiped her frame once more. "Still miss you."

Rimmer's photograph sat nestled amongst the others. Still believing the original Rimmer to be dead after being killed by the knight in the AR machine, Kryten had added his image to the collection of faces at the gravestone. At first, Lister had found this unsettling. After all, he knew that his Rimmer had left to become Ace long ago, even before Kris had joined them.

But as the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, Lister's distant hope that Rimmer would somehow make it back to them had spluttered and died. It had been almost ten years since he'd left to become Ace, and Lister had a horrible feeling that something had happened to him. He'd found recently that rather than just remembering and missing him, he'd begun to grieve for him.

Lister picked up his photograph and sighed. The man had been the living epitome of annoying. In a new world devoid of bureaucracy, Rimmer's obsession with rank and precision had baffled Lister for many years. Yet it was only when Rimmer had gone that he'd realised how much he missed it.

The door whistled behind him, sliding open with a distant _hiss_. Lister didn't even need to turn around to see who it was. The painfully familiar silhouette reflected hazily in the buffed gravestone, hovering over the words – 'To those we've lost'. The original Rimmer may be gone but his image still remained.

"Lister?"

Lister's shoulders tensed visibly. Even the tone of his voice haunted him.

"Not now man, okay?"

Still standing in the light of the doorway, Rimmer watched as Lister bowed his head, rubbing his face with his sleeve surreptitiously. He could almost pick out the shimmering of the odd silver hair that tangled in with his dark curls. Time had certainly moved swiftly on. The pair were now pushing forty.

His look of concern slowly retreated into contempt when he noticed whose picture Lister was holding. Rimmer caught a glimpse of his own face, staring back at him unseeing. He shuddered. It was unspeakably creepy seeing his picture next to a gravestone. But it was a deeper, more saddening feeling that, even after all these years of being stuck in deep space together, Lister still couldn't let go of his supposed 'original' self and turn to see him instead.

"Lister, it's important," he pressed. "Holly says –"

"Rimmer," Lister snapped back, "I said 'not now'."

Rimmer's nostrils flared. He hadn't even bothered to look at him. Wordlessly, he spun on his heels and left the garden, the doors hissing shut behind him.

Holly's cameras tracked him as he stormed down the corridor towards the Express Lift. As Rimmer stabbed the call button a little too forcefully, Holly projected himself onto the screen by the lift doors.

"Arnold, did you tell Dave about the - ?"

Rimmer interruped him with an angry sigh, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the lift's doorway. He pressed the button once again.

"Holly, I don't have an answer-machine service as well as acting as your personal bloody messenger."

Holly sighed. His signal couldn't reach the Remembrance Garden so he'd asked Rimmer to go and fetch Lister. Clearly a big mistake. Judging by Rimmer's foul mood, they'd probably bickered. Again.

"I'll pop up to explain the situation to Kryten, that'll take three minutes. Then I'll round up Cat, that'll take two minutes. And then I'll grab Dave, that'll take another five minutes. I'd calculate that we should all rendezvous in the Drive Room in –" Holly's eyes glazed over for a moment. "Four minutes?"

Rimmer's finger stabbed repeatedly at the call button. Forget Kristine smegging Kochanski. If he spent any more time conversing with a computer senile mainframe who couldn't count correctly, he'd hurl _himself_ out of a smegging airlock.

The lift arrived and Rimmer strode in, his face like thunder. He pressed for the Cargo Bay.

"Erm, Arnold. The Drive Room is up from this level - "

"I'm not going," he shot back. "Clearly I'm surplus to requirement on this bloody ship." Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I need to go and clear my head for a while," he mumbled, as the lift doors closed.

Holly performed an internal sweep of Red Dwarf and located the mechanoid in Lister's sleeping quarters. His image dissolved from the corridor and reappeared in place of the mirror.

"Kryten, mate – "

"Ah, Holly," Kryten beamed happily as he carefully ironed some crisp, pristine sheets. "Perfect timing." He patted two piles of bedding sheets, one striped, one spotted. "It's time for Mr Lister's annual bedding change, and I'd appreciate some input as to the pattern selection."

"Kryten, there's something a little more pressing than your – " he blinked. "- um - _pressing_. I'm afraid we might have a problem."

Kryten's head jerked up to face the screen, panic etched on his plastic features.

"Oh my goodness! We're out of fabric softener, aren't we?"

"No, Kryten, our stocks of fabric conditioner are perfectly fine." Holly sighed. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to stick to his carefully calculated timetable.

"Windolene?"

"What? No, Kryten, we're fine for Windolene."

"Shake n' Vac?"

"Smegging hell, yes, we're fine for – " Holly paused. "Wait, hang on. No, I think we're down to our last one, actually." He shook his disembodied head as if to free himself from the strange, cyclic conversation that sounded like something out of the Twilight Zone. "No, it's something more important than that. Remember the crew's ships that were following us?"

Kryten knew all too well. Although his Guilt Chip almost melted initially, the others had found it hilarious to leave the entire crew trailing Red Dwarf in a strange formation of Starbugs and Blue Midgets, especially in revenge for having been imprisoned in the Tank for over a year. Mr Rimmer had claimed that he could 'see no ships', so Kryten eventually reasoned that his eyes must be faulty. Over the last eight years, the odd ship had dropped off the radar but the majority of them still persisted.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong," Holly explained evenly, "is that none of them are out there anymore. They've gone."


	2. Fallen

**********

I've drawn regret

From the truth

Of a thousand lies

\- Linkin Park, What I've Done

**********

Ten months, three weeks, four days. One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.

Rimmer blinked slowly, his gaze fixed before him in a sightless stare.

Ten months, three weeks, four days. One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.

His fingers fumbled unseeing for the glass and he started to take a good, hard swig. The GELF moonshine was strong.

Ten months, three weeks...

Rimmer's eyes screwed shut as he tipped up the glass fully, slugging as much as he was physically able. He could barely remember how to stand upright. Yet the one thing he wanted to forget, his brain seemed to want to chant like a torturous mantra.

It was a few moments until he noticed that the liquid had stopped trickling over his lips and he reluctantly opened his eyes. The bar was blurred through the base of the glass making him feel rather nauseous, so he replaced it back on the bar unsteadily. With a shudder, his propped-up elbows stopped supporting his head and he sank down to the sticky surface, moaning into his sleeves.

Darka looked away sadly and continued to wipe the glass with the grimy cloth of his age-old apron. The fading sunlight stretched lazily through the open door of Edge bar, letting in the sounds of the market square; traders calling out for final bargains, boxes being packed and stacked, as Galactic Bazaar changed from the bartering of the day to the sordidness of the night.

The light was broken momentarily as a figure stepped through the doorway. Darka's rough, wrinkled face pulled into a fond smile.

"Theo," Darka's voice rumbled affectionately.

Theo's immense bulk waddled slowly over to the bar with a matching smile. He was a GELF similar to Darka, around six feet tall, and mostly rhinoceros in appearance, bar the elongated ears that hung down behind his shoulders. Originally their kind had been created for the grunt work when it came to planet-terraforming, as the human race expanded further into the galaxy, creating new worlds. Hundreds of thousands of years later, their species was mostly known as hard-working lower-class types.

"Hey Darka. Long time no see."

"Must have been a good year and a half." Darka lined up the glass with the others on the shelf. "How's business?"

Theo growled audibly as he leant his arms on the bar. "You know what it's been like these last couple of years with the bloody simulants tearing this galaxy apart looking for smeg knows what. People are too scared to get out and trade, and those that do just don't have the credits to give a good price."

Darka shook his head. "Bloody horrible. Not like the good ol' days."

Theo's brow furrowed as his dark eyes flitted over Rimmer who had only just managed to haul himself back into a sitting position at the far end of the bar.

"Smegging hell. Isn't that - ?"

"Yeah, yeah it's him," Darka's rumbling voice dropped to a hushed whisper, hoping that Theo would follow suit.

"Smeg," Theo exhaled forcefully. "Last I heard, he'd gone into hiding after what happened on the Exodus Colony?"

Once orbiting Argon 5, the Exodus Colony had been a space station turned refugee settlement for those who had lost their ships, their homes, and their livelihoods to the simulant's wave of terror. Cobbled together from old ship parts and salvaged materials, much like the evolution of Galactic Bazaar, The Exodus Colony had welcomed all species, races and creatures – GELFS, dolochimps, Axis-Syndrome holograms, Kinitowawi - all united in their wish to rebuild their lives. All one-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two of them.

Darka started to polish another glass. "He's been here since it happened."

Theo frowned. "But hasn't it been a year?"

Rimmer swallowed the lump in his throat. Ten months, three weeks, four days...

Theo shook his head before he turned back to Darka. "Poor bastard. I've heard he's not exactly flavour of the month around here anymore."

Darka held up the glass into the light in inspection with a sigh. "He did his best to save them, rest their souls." He placed the glass alongside the others. "But I don't think the folks here see it that way." Darka glanced back to Rimmer, who was mournfully pouring himself another large glass of moonshine, spilling most of it onto the bar. "I don't think even he sees it that way, to be honest."

Theo shook his head once more. "Those simulants are callous, heartless bastards," he spat. "They didn't stand a chance."

A lone figure stood silhouetted in the eerie orange glow of the doorway, and the GELFs turned. A hologram walked slowly into the bar, hands held open desperately.

"Guys, please. I need help," he mumbled sadly. "Can you lend me twenty credits? Please, I'm down to my last battery pack. I can't afford the trading price - "

The hologram tailed off as his dark, brown eyes met Rimmer's.

"You."

Rimmer froze.

"You bastard," he barely breathed, before his features twisted into a pained, ugly snarl. "You bastard!"

The man launched himself at Rimmer, grabbing him roughly by the lapels of his stone grey jacket, hauling him off the bar stool and slamming him against the wall. Rimmer's eyes focused just in time to see a fist punch hard against his cheekbone.

The two GELFs rushed across the bar to stop him. Theo grabbed the hologram by the arms and dragging him out of hitting distance. Unable to support himself, Rimmer leant heavily against the wall, panting in shock.

"Why didn't you stop them?!" the hologram screamed, his eyes boring holes into Rimmer as he strained against Theo's grip. "The only reason I'm stuck on this shithole of a space station is because of you!" The hologram's face sank with grief, his eyes welling with tears. "I only left her on the Exodus to pick up supplies - " his lip trembled.

Rimmer's chest heaved at the words. His eyes pricked red as he shook his head loosely. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

The hologram thrashed against Theo's vice-like hold, tears now streaming freely down his face.

"You worthless bastard!" he cried. "She was worth a thousand of you!" The grief overcame him as sobs racked his body. "She was worth a thousand of you - "

Rimmer's lip shook, tears balanced precariously in his eyes as he watched the hologram sink to the floor in despair. His quivering gaze shifted to Theo, whose eyes quickly broke away to turn to the hologram on the floor before him. His eyes flitted over to Darka instead, who stared at him mutely before shaking his head and waddling to the other end of the bar. Rimmer nodded distantly, the tears still refusing to flow, and he slowly staggered out of the bar.

Theo patted the sobbing hologram gently on the back. "It's okay, buddy. It's okay," he soothed. "I've got some stock you can have. I can get you hooked up, don't worry."

The market square was deserted, but the man's cries still resonated through the warm, stale air of the evening. Rimmer staggered slowly into the rapidly darkening alley beside Edge, where stacks of empty glass bottles and wooden crates lay abandoned. He leant back heavily against the wall, expelling a shuddered breath as he bit back the tears.

He jumped visibly as two dolochimps slowed as they passed him in the alley, staring at him openly. With faces of contempt, they muttered hushed whispers to one another; lost words punctuated with the name Rimmer once bore proudly, before promptly losing interest and walking on.

Rimmer's lip quivered, eyes screwed closed in despair. Misery overwhelmed him. With bitter, regretful sobs, he sank slowly to the dusty floor, his tall frame sinking into the shadows.

Ten months, three weeks, four days. One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.


	3. Ultimatum

*********************

So let mercy come

And wash away

What I've done.

\- Linkin Park, What I've Done

*********************

That's the thing about traumatic memories.

No matter how much you want to forget, or how much you try to drown them in a wave of drink, they'll never be denied. They'll always float to the surface when you least expect it.

When Rimmer eventually opened his heavy eyes again, it was dark. The bars and clubs had reclaimed Galactic Bazaar once more, the uncomfortably humid night air thick with the sounds and smells of bass, drugs and sex.

With the effects of the moonshine still holding dominion over his light bee, Rimmer's head swung up in a loose arc until his gaze met with the flashing neon red sign at the end of the alley. Confusion pinched his brow, leaving his mouth to hang open as he blinked slowly, the letters fighting for focus. There was something disconcerting about the way the red light pulsed every few seconds, sending the alley flashing between a red glow and dark shadow. Nausea gripped him, his head spinning as his eyes drooped closed.

"Ace?"

His eyes snapped open to the red warning light on the wall alternating between illuminating the room with a red glow and retreating into shadow.

He'd barricaded himself in the server room on the simulant ship the SS Orion. The floor snaked with wires, the computer banks shimmering with tiny lights that flickered in concentration.

"Guys, I'm in," he panted.

The radio transmitter strapped to Rimmer's arm crackled into life, the static replaced with a deep, rumbling voice. "You were starting to worry me for a moment there, Ace."

Rimmer swallowed against his dry throat, forcing the confidence through his words. "Come on Tonga, old chum," he heard himself say in the smooth, suave voice that commonly hijacked his vocal chords in times of crisis. "Have I ever let you down?"

Tonga snorted in amusement, though the panic continued to quiver the edges of his words. "Apart from that time you ducked out of your round at the bar? Never."

"I had to save Blerios 5 from that aganoid attack and you know it," Rimmer quipped back. "I've saved your arse more times than I can count, and this won't be the last, don't worry."

Rimmer and Captain Tonga went back a long way, to the early days of Rimmer's time as Ace. He'd saved Tonga and some of his fellow Blerion GELFs after their fleet had been savaged by the simulants some five years back. Eternally grateful, Tonga had then used what little commodities he had left to create the Exodus Colony of which he was now captain and commander, welcoming all races and species who had suffered a similar fate during the simulants reign of terror.

Tonga fell silent a moment, allowing Rimmer to catch a flash of the background noise onboard the Exodus; a flurry of alarms and panicked cries. "Don't take too long," he mumbled quietly before the link fell into static once more.

"Ace? Hello? Are you reading me?"

"Computer, I can hardly hear you," he strained, his voice returning to his naturally nasal tone. "Your projection in here is terrible. It's worse than trying to pick up the TV signal for The Shopping Channel in Death Valley using nothing but a metal coathanger."

There was a series of beeps before the computer spoke once more. "I've upped my frequency so hopefully I'm transmitting to your light bee more clearly now. You'll need to locate the OT link and plug in there. It'll have a flashing red light next to it."

Rimmer blinked. Hundreds of red lights that stretched across the surface of the computer banks blinked back.

"Anything a bit more useful?!" he shot back, his old snidy, nasal tones biting through stronger than ever.

"It'll have the code 'MST-OT' next to it."

Rimmer's panicked eyes flitted across the sparkling surface.

"Ace, hurry up! Only three minutes until the bomb - "

"Ah! Got it!" Rimmer unclipped the tiny laptop device from his hard light remote belt, linked it up with quivering fingers and booted up. "Right, what do I do now?"

"I'll try hacking in from this end, you do what you can from there."

Rimmer mopped his face with the flat of his palm. "Right, sequence code X1X-02201-985," he breathed to himself. His fingers slick with sweat danced over the keys, trying any variation of hackers code he had ever learnt to infiltrate the bomb's destruct program and override it.

"I see you."

Rimmer froze as the disembodied voice resonated around the room. The electronic distorted feedback of the deep rumbling tones were unmistakable. His eyes flitted around the dark room until they located the old CCTV camera hooked up on the ceiling.

"Pizzak, what the hell are you playing at?" he cried, fighting to keep his 'Ace' voice in check.

"Nice to see you too, Mr Rimmer," he replied playfully.

Rimmer's screen flashed up with another 'Access Denied' message, dragging a frustrated growl from his vocal chords.

"Pizzak, disarm the bomb now!"

Pizzak cackled in amusement, his laughter distorting over the speakers. "Now why, in all that's putrid, would I want to do that? Especially when I can finally be reunited with the Jadestone I so very much desire. You see, I have it on very good authority that someone in the vicinity knows of its whereabouts."

Rimmer's radio transmitter crackled into life, Tonga's voice now sounding much more urgent and desperate.

"Ace, the simulants have overridden the access codes to the escape pods. We can't get out," he stuttered anxiously. "What are they going to do?"

Rimmer's face hardened, though his chest began to heave with panicked breaths. "It's a bluff, old boy," he managed. "It's in hand."

Pizzak tutted. "A bluff?" he challenged, sounding almost offended. "I give you my word that I am being deadly serious."

"Dammit, Pizzak! They're innocent people!" he yelled back. "They don't have the - "

And then it hit Rimmer with the full force of a punch to the gut. Pizzak was no fool. Why would he think that a defenceless refugee colony like the Exodus would be harbouring a gemstone precious enough to wipe out entire civilisations?

It was a trap. No, it was worse than a trap. It was an ultimatum.

"I'm not a patient droid, Ace Rimmer, you know this all too well," Pizzak began tightly. "Give me the dimension and co-ordinates of the Jadestone's location or - " he paused, presumably for dramatic effect, but which only resulted in making Rimmer feel physically sick. "- I'll blast that colony into scrap metal."

Rimmer's mouth hung loosely, his head swimming. Pizzak probably hadn't realised the full extent of how he'd got him by the family jewels. Rimmer knew all too well from his first ever encounter with Pizzak that the Jadestone could be used to power a weapon of such terrifying destruction that half the galaxy's lifeforms could be wiped out in one blast. 

But the Jadestone was currently hidden, completely unawares, on the small, inconspicuous green ship he'd left nine years ago. Reality's equivalent of the arse end of nowhere. If he gave away the location, not only would the simulants be too powerful to stop, but they'd throw their full destructive force at whoever was harbouring it...

"Ace! What are you waiting for? Keep trying the override codes!"

The computer's disembodied voice resonating in his mind gave him the jumpstart he needed. His eyes returned to the screen as his fingers pummelled the keyboard with renewed fury. There would not be any ultimatum. There would be no victims. And he was certainly not backing down to some deranged, evil droid with the sanity margin of a gnat's wing.

"Sixty seconds, Mr Rimmer. Tick tock."

"_Shut the smeg up!_" he screeched, his voice now completely devoid of the smooth, controlled tones of his alter ego.

His brain fought for any ideas possible. A tiny iota of inspiration. But nothing was forthcoming. The screen reeled with green text, continually flashing up the message 'Access Denied' at his efforts.

"Thirty seconds."

"Oh smeg no," he breathed.

"Ace, please. Do something!" Tonga cried desperately. "I think the ship's going to blow!"

"Ace, nothing I'm trying is working! I'm using every trick I know!"

"Ten seconds."

Rimmer fought the instinct to hyperventilate. They'd been doing this for years, overthrowing the simulants, saving the day. It was as if the facade of convention had begun to crumble around him, leaving the cruel, stark reality exposed. This wasn't like the movies. People would die.

"Five seconds."

His shaking fingers flew across the keyboard desperately. "No, no, no, no - !"

"Four."

"Pizzak, please - "

"Three. "

"Ace - ?"

"Two."

"I'm sorry - "

"One."

Then his world turned upside down.

The shockwave of the explosion even reached the SS Orion, blasting the vessel with a violent, thunderous ship quake. The resulting force sent Rimmer tumbling backwards through the snake pit of tangled wires and crashing back into the banks of servers behind him.

As the SS Orion settled and the gyro regained equilibrium, he simply lay there panting open-mouthed, eyes wide and glazed with shock.

It was the emptiness of the silence afterwards that would haunt him most. The relentless crackling of the empty static that now buzzed from the severed connection. His horror in hearing the final screams of one-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two people simultaneously crying out to him for salvation. Then simply nothing.

"Ace?"

Rimmer's eyes jerked open in shock, taking in the dark, stinking alley of Galactic Bazaar. He was still panting.

"Ace, can you hear me?"

A shuddered breath escaped as his head sank back against the brick wall. He closed his eyes.

"Ace, can you - ?"

"Leave me alone," he mumbled, his voice thick with misery.

The computer sighed sadly. "Ace, please, it's vital that - "

Rimmer shook his head as he opened his eyes reluctantly, his vision quivering. "No, what's vital is that I get another drink or five from Darka pronto." He hauled himself shakily to his feet, his hand shooting out for the support of the stack of wooden crates beside him. "I am clearly far too sober to - "

"Ace, the simulants have reached Dimension 23101986K."

Rimmer shrugged unsteadily. "And I should give a smeg because - ?"

"Because it's your home dimension, Ace," the computer replied sternly. "I think they've located the Jadestone."


	4. Missing

Lister joined the Cat and Kryten in the Drive Room slightly out of breath. Waist up, he was dressed in his pressed shirt, jacket and bow tie. Waist down, he was still clad in his typical biker leathers and scuffed boots.

The Cat wrinkled his nose involuntarily. "What the hell are you wearing, buddy?" he sniffed. "Your outfit is as messed up as Paris Hilton."

Lister shot him a mocking sneer. "Yeah, yeah," he nodded chidingly. He turned to the large screen before them where the large, disembodied head waited patiently. "So what's the beef, Hol? What's happened to the other ships?"

Holly's mouth bunched in a facial shrug. "Beats me, Dave. They were following us as recently as a month ago, but when I did my checks this morning they were no longer within our local scanner range."

Lister shook his head, puzzled. "How can a fleet of twenty ships just disappear?"

"Magic spells?" The Cat offered hopefully. "I was scent-reading these books the other day that I found in storage about this wizard boy who –"

Lister rolled his eyes. They may have been stuck in deep space together for fifteen years but there was no denying that they were still a Mickey Mouse operation. "Can I have someone else's opinion please?" he cut in tightly. "Ideally from someone whose IQ is in at least double figures?"

Holly clicked his tongue. "Well, if you want my view –"

"Double figures, Hol, double figures."

The computer scowled at Lister's grin. "I'll have you know that my intellect is so vast, I can recount the entirity of Shakespeare's works whilst simultaneously calculating pi to 1.5 million decimal places."

Lister folded his arms, highly amused. "Go on then."

Holly's eyes flitted left and right awkwardly. "Or a sport's question? I'm red-hot on 20th Century football."

Kryten's cubed fingers drummed on his chestplate noisily to return the conversation to its most imperative direction. "If I may interject, sir, the ship's have only disappeared from our local area scanners. This doesn't necessarily ascertain that they've disappeared altogether."

Lister wagged his finger at the mechanoid. "Nice thinking, Krytes. Holly? Can you do a long range scan?"

Holly's eyes glazed over for a moment. "Got the blighters. They're almost 3.6 megaclicks away."

Lister's brow furrowed as he moved across to the console and began to punch up the long range scan. "That's odd. How on earth could we have outrun them by that distance in under a month?" he mused. "Red Dwarf is as about as speedy as the service in Little Chef. They've been following us for eight years and never dropped below 7 or 8 clicks behind us."

The Cat flashed a gleaming white toothy smile. "Maybe they've given up the chase."

Lister's eyes narrowed as the green matrix flashed up on the monitor before him. "They're stationary."

Kryten shuffled behind him and peered at the data, his metallic blue eyes flitting left and right almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps we should try hailing them, sir" he suggested eventually. "If they're in trouble we could probably reach them within three weeks."

"Half a mo," Holly nodded before his image dissolved from the screen.

The Cat pulled out his trusty pocket mirror and comb and began to perfect his coiffeur. "So what do you think happened to them?" he asked distantly, more interested in his immaculate reflection. It was the closest he got to genuine concern.

"Engine failure?" Lister offered.

Kryten squirmed. The likelihood of all twenty ships suffering engine failure was fairly minute. According to his own calculations, it was about as likely as the ships collectively deciding to retire to the same home in Eastbourne. He stared mutely at the scanner readouts. There was something strange, almost suspicious about how they were staggered in their stationary positions. It was almost as if the ships were frozen in a moment of mass panic.

Lister shrugged half-heartedly. "Ah well," he sighed as he flopped into a nearby swivel chair and rested his boots on the console before him. "It was a laugh while it lasted. Hollister's not gonna be a happy bunny when he catches up with us." Lister examined the dirt under his fingernails. "He'll probably be as thrilled as that time me and Rimmer tampered with the vending machine by his quarters so it dispensed carrots instead of fun-size Crunchie bars." Lister frowned as he scanned the Drive Room. "Speaking of which, has anyone seen –?"

Holly's face re-materialised on the screen. "I think we've got a problem, dudes," he said solemnly. "None of the ships are responding to our hails." His usually jovial London twang dropped to a murmur. "There's no life-signs on board any of them."

A combination of confusion, fear and remorse wrestled for space on Lister's features. He slowly pulled his feet down from the console, staring at the computer's face in shock.

"They're dead?" he swallowed.

Holly unintentionally repeated the exact same words he'd uttered fifteen years before. "Everybody's dead, Dave."

Lister's stomach plummeted at the same moment as the Cat's mirror, which shattered on impact into a thousand fragments.

Kryten's rubber features twisted with guilt, barely even registering the commands that whirred in his programming to fetch a dustpan and brush. "What happened?" he asked simply.

The Cat shook his head in disbelief, finally finding his voice. "Was it a virus or something? Did they get sick?"

"But they would have hailed us, sent an SOS, anything," Lister cried, his voice reaching a plateau of desperation and anger.

Holly shook his head. "I've tried hacking into their black boxes to find out what happened, but they seem to have gone missing."

Kryten's eyes flitted back to the scanner readouts fearfully. "Or they were stolen," he mumbled.

Three pairs of eyes turned to face him.

"We've seen this type of random, silent attack pattern before, sirs," Kryten explained. "Don't you remember when we - ?"

The mechanoid was silenced as the Drive Room began to shake violently, the warning lights sparking into life alongside the piercing wail of alarms. The strange vibrations died away almost immediately, but the group was still left reeling.

"What the smeg was that, Hol?"

Holly blinked in surprise. "Some form of energy resonance at a magnitude I've never seen before. According to your logs, it's most consistent with some form of craft 'dimension jumping'?"

A small grin began to tug at the corner of Lister's mouth. Was there a chance - ? Could it be - ? He swiveled back to the console and punched up visuals of the craft that had just materialised beside them. As Kryten and the Cat drew up beside him, the small, hopeful smile drained away, along with most of the colour in his cheeks.

The craft was large and as black as infinite space; its smooth black body flanked either side by two long, dangerous-looking laser canons. Against the silent, twinkling stars, the ship hung silently before them in expectation.

Kryten's hands jerked uncontrollably, his face contorting in a strange, Stan Laurel-like parody. "Simulants," he squeaked, confirming everyone's worst fears.

Lister's stomach churned as his hand shot to his mouth. If the simulants now sported dimension-jumping technology, they must have crossed paths with Rimmer at some point during his travels as Ace and... His eyes closed softly in despair.

"Emergency, emergency," Holly droned. "There's definitely an emergency going on. Intruder alert. Unidentified intruders have materialised in the Cargo Bay."

Instead of whipping up an instinctive sense of panic within him, the words seemed to filter far deeper into Lister's being, shaking loose a flurry of grief, loss and anger. His eyes snapped open.

Kryten watched as Lister strode purposefully across the Drive Room towards the munitions cabinet, stabbing in the security code with a strange degree of enunciation.

"What are you doing, sir?" he clucked as he rushed over to join him.

Lister tossed a bazookoid across to the Cat who caught it effortlessly, before pulling out one of his own and loading it forcefully with barely-concealed aggression. "We can't have guests on board without a Welcome Party can we Krytes?" Lister replied evenly. "Better get down there and crack open the bourbon biscuits."

Kryten did his best to keep his voice in check. "A superlative plan, Mr Lister, sir, with just two minor drawbacks. One, we're out of bourbon biscuits and only have one last packet of custard creams left. And two, perhaps more importantly, a bazookoid's attack against a simulant's armour would be as effective as avoiding a nuclear fallout armed with an umbrella."

Lister ignored the fussing mechanoid, instead turning back to the cabinet to grab a third bazookoid. "We've got to at least try, man," he reasoned as he turned back to face him. "We can always - " he trailed off, holding the spare bazookoid aloft as his eyes scanned the Drive Room once more. "Where the hell is Rimmer?" he asked carefully.

Kryten and the Cat returned mutual shrugs. All three of them turned to Holly.

Holly's memory replayed all of the conversations he'd held in the last sixty minutes, including his interaction with Rimmer as he'd entered the lift. His face slowly fell.

"Oh smeg."


	5. Rimmer's Decision

Rimmer shook his head in disbelief, almost feeling the remaining booze in his system sloshing against his skull.

"But how did they - ? I mean, when - ? But surely - ?" he spluttered.

The computer huffed. "In the absence of a cohesive sentence, I'll fill in for you. Remember the first time you met Pizzak and the simulants?"

Rimmer's face hardened. "All too well," he replied tightly.

It had been many years since he'd become Ace, but he'd never forget or forgive his capture and torture in his first ever encounter with the SS Orion. It had been his first and most momentus step on the path to becoming his heroic alter ego. Rimmer sighed as his eyes fell on the dingy, stinking alley. Shame the path had led him to Shit Central.

"I've been wondering for the last two years how the simulants have managed to replicate Wildfire's DJ drive in their search for the Jadestone. I suspect that when they initially captured you, the simulants managed to copy and analyse the drive's workings to create a version of their own. However, I believe that their version of the Wildfire drive is limited, in that it can only jump to dimensions that we've already visited. That would explain why they followed you here to this dimension, and –"

The computer tailed off. Inadvertantly suggesting that the simulants had reached Dimension 357 by following his interdimensional footsteps to cause such immense devastation wasn't exactly the best method of rousing him from his wallowing hole of self-pity.

Rimmer leant on his splayed knees, hung his head and groaned. "Great." he mumbled. "Not only could I not stop the simulants but I led them here in the first place?"

The computer sighed. "Ace, it's not – "

"Stop calling me that," Rimmer growled. "I keep telling you, I'm not him anymore."

The pair fell silent. Even the usual hustle and bustle of the square had now dissipated. The night revellers had headed for their beds, and the air of the early hours now hung in anticipation for the return of the morning. It wouldn't be long before Galactic Bazaar began its new cycle of its orbit of Argon 5 and the light from the nearby suns would come creeping through the humid darkness, bringing the traders with it.

Eventually the computer broke the silence. "What happened to those poor people on the Exodus was not your fault," she said gently. "You need to let go of what happened that day and forgive yourself. You've punished yourself for far too long."

Rimmer's cheeks burned with shame. Revelling in the delight that he'd finally been able to become the person he'd always wanted to be, he'd grown too cocky and too self-assured. After the Exodus Colony disaster, he'd crawled back into his shell, into the bottle, and into old habits. His sodden mind dredged up his rather horrible memories of his time on the psi-moon all those years ago. There was no doubting that his Self-Loathing had returned to hold dominion.

"It's time for you to move on now. Ace, Arnold, whoever you are. The others back home need you. You've got to go back."

The old, familiar sensation of fear fluttered in his stomach. If he went back, he'd have to face his demons. What the hell would the others think if they found out what had happened on the Exodus? He wouldn't be able to look Lister in the eye. He'd gone away for ten years and become what? A failure. 

Rimmer squirmed. And what if he failed again? What if he went back and couldn't save them from the simulants? What if they too died because of him? He wouldn't be able to face _himself_ again.

He hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, his free hand thrust out instinctively as if fending off unseen foes.

"I can't think right now," he mumbled as he staggered towards the back door of Edge, his thoughts too muddy for cohesion. "I need some sleep."

***************

He'd always hated Sports Day back at school.

It was never an event that held the anatomically-challenged such as little Arnold J. Rimmer in esteemed circles. In fact, it only served to further alienate the likes of him from the safety of the herd that was Popularity.

He stared mutely across the length of the running track where a line of parents and children cheered and hollered, his hand-me-down shorts flapping against his skinny legs in the bitter wind. The P.E. teacher Mr Heinman had begrudgingly put him down for the 500m relay, the only event that he'd deemed little Arnold J. Rimmer to be least capable of screwing up - get handed baton, run to next person, hand over baton. Not exactly rocket science.

As soon as he felt the baton slap against his palm, Rimmer gripped with all his strength and pushed himself off into a frenzied run. He pictured his brothers racing behind him, just itching to peg him to the ground, smear him with plum jam and leave him out for the ants. It was a stark memory that always seemed to locate a last, hidden source of energy from somewhere in his spindly frame.

Maybe it was the pressure. Maybe it was Frank's spiked running shoes that were at least two sizes too big. Whatever the cause, his resulting tumble was of epic proportions; his arms flailed wildly as he tripped, lost his balance and crashed heavily into the red clay, carving out bloody skids in his arms, knees and chin. The metal baton skittered away out of reach with a teasing tinkle as several pairs of feet thundered past him.

Still crumpled on the floor, shame flaring his cheeks red, he glanced across meekly at the people lining the running track. Their faces pulsed between stark clarity and blurry indistinction. He noticed Dicky Duckworth from Junior A standing next to his sour-faced mother. But flanking them both in their mutual disgust was Pizzak 'Rapp, M'Aiden Ty-One, D'Jhun Keep and Chi'Panastee, the simulants from the SS Orion. Crowds of semi-familiar figures from the markets of Galactic Bazaar stood shoulder to shoulder with old students and work colleagues, all jeering and insulting him for his spectacular fall.

Lister also stood in the crowd, the only one not making a sound. His desperate eyes searched his, silently imploring him to continue. Ashamed, Rimmer's eyes swivelled back on course to the next runner, still awaiting the baton.

He blinked unsteadily. The runner before him was no longer a boy, but a man who stood expectantly; gesturing encouragingly for the baton with a distant smile.

It was himself.

****************

Rimmer awoke with a start, his flailing limbs tangled in the thin dustsheet of his makeshift bed. His eyes winced as they caught the light of the early morning sun that needled through the grime-streaked window of the bar's stock room.

As his frantic breathing slowed, realisation slowly dawned. His features hardened. He knew what he had to do.

The footfall of his boots echoed as he walked through the abandoned bar, taking in the sights and smells for the last time. Shrugging on his jacket, he narrowly avoided the front door as it swung open towards him. Arms loaded with a crate of booze, Darka jumped in surprise, the bottles jingling together in tinkled melody.

"Hey human," he rumbled. "Where are you going so early?"

Grasping Darka by his wrinkled, bulky arms, Rimmer gently guided him around so that he was safely inside the bar. The GELF's brow furrowed confused as the human stood silently silhouetted in the doorway, watching as a small smile surfaced on Rimmer's face as he slapped him affectionately on the arm before disappearing off across the square.

Dawn had only arrived an hour before, but the market was already heaving with people. The enclosed metal cattle grid that was the trader's area was alive with colours, smells and sounds, as Rimmer negotiated his way through the masses. Dolochimps argued over fuel prices, GELFs called out in unfamiliar languages about their wares, mechanoids fetched and carried stock, as Galactic Bazaar was brought to life once more. He felt hands grabbing out at his sleeves and various goods thrust under his nose, but he didn't veer from his course, instead shimmying left into Electronics Alley.

Reaching the ramshackle shop emblazoned with posters advertising great deals on RAM chips, Rimmer peered through the chainmail curtain. A dark grey, bulky figure was hunched over his work, painstakingly re-wiring an unidentifiable contraption. The chains tinkled gently as he stepped through and the GELF looked up.

"Erm, it's Theo, isn't it?" Rimmer asked carefully.

Theo blinked in surprise. "Ace? Smegging hell, I didn't expect to see you up and about." He waggled the screwdriver towards him with a grin. "How's that head of yours?" he chided.

Rimmer's cheeks flushed red. "For the first time in many many months, I think it's finally thinking clearly."

Theo cocked an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

Flicking the fringe out of his eyes, Rimmer dipped his head so that his eyes were level with the GELF's and dropped his voice low. "I'm going to need a weapon. Something powerful."

An almost imperceptible grin tugged at the edges of Theo's lips. It had been many years since those expertise had been called upon, yet he was glad that his name still remained synonymous with some of the most effective and destructive devices in the galaxy's history.

"Weapon?" he chewed over the word slowly. "And what, pray tell, would that be for?"

Although the smile of comradeship flickered on the surface, Rimmer's chest burned white hot with something far darker.

"Revenge," he said simply.

Whispers swept across the crowds as they parted and shifted to let him through, like a flock of birds changing midflight. Clutching the package close to his chest, Rimmer's eyes flitted nervously across the faces, some etched with distant awe, others still clouded with disapproval.

As he left the claustrophobic heat of the market, Rimmer's stride through the square slowed and stopped when he reached the wall that had haunted him for the last eleven months. 

Plastered across its rudimentary brick surface were hundreds of missing posters, each emblazoned with photographs and descriptions in a variety of languages and symbols that he didn't have to translate to interpret. It was a sea of desperate voices, now dampened as time silently passed on, all pleading for any news of their loved ones last reported to have been registered on the Exodus Colony. He nodded gently in respect before setting off with renewed purpose.

The landing bay of Galactic Bazaar housed a variety of smaller craft as well as the blue uniformity of the transport vehicles that would bring potential traders and revellers to and from their mother ships. Rimmer's footsteps echoed across the empty bay until he reached Space 427. 

With a hefty tug, he hauled off the voluminous white dustsheet, which hovered in the air like an ancient ship's sail before sinking to the ground. Wildfire stood silently before him.

His hand slowly wiped a trail through the thin layer of dust that had still managed to settle on the red paintwork.

"Hello you," he smiled wearily. "Did you miss me?"


	6. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referencing 'Back to Earth', the opening of this chapter pre-empts the flood that Rimmer describes to Katerina when she enquires about the absence of Holly:
> 
> Katerina: Why does mainframe computer not function?
> 
> Rimmer: Lister left a bath running in the Officer's Quarters. We didn't find out about it for nearly nine years. Then one night, it was a Tuesday, the floor gave way and nearly two million gallons of water fell through the ship. Not a nice way to be woken. One minute, you're lying in your bed snoozing, the next you're being washed down a corridor at 80 knots per hour. The skutters still haven't finished drying him out.
> 
> I've also followed on from my own fic, 'Hidden Depths', specifically Chapter Five when, trapped in the underground caverns, Lister reveals to Rimmer what really happened to his predecessor.

Leaning heavily on the safety rail, Rimmer stared down into the water tank below.

He was trying to distract himself by thinking over the conundrum of the drop in water pressure that had been plaguing the ship for the last seven years. His eyes narrowed as he strained to read the water levels. They'd dropped by almost a quarter of a gallon in the last year alone. 

Unless Lister was going through 53 baths a day, it was unlikely that they should be using that much water. Hell, even the Cat only took a maximum of eight showers in a single 24-hour period. Lister and Kryten had been checking over every nook and cranny for the last four weeks and not found as much as a trickle leaking from the tank.

Rimmer caught a glimpse of his morose reflection in the ripples of the water far below. He sighed. He knew it to be petty and childish to be jealous of his predecessor, but he couldn't help but feel angry and resentful when he saw Lister mourning over a long departed version of himself when here he was, alive and well. 

It was probably because he'd jetted off to play the hero. Saving far off worlds, overthrowing evil, rescuing damsels in distress. He was probably getting more sex in a day than he could hope to achieve in a lifetime. Bastard. With an audible growl, he pushed himself away from the rail and stormed off towards the stacks of food crates.

Despite his misgivings, Rimmer had never let on to the others about how it had actually been his predecessor that had carried on the legend that was Ace. He'd kept Lister's secret ever since the day he'd told him some eight years before when they'd been trapped together in the underground caves on some ridiculously suicidal CANARY mission. A small part of him did wonder what had happened to his other self during his distant adventures.

Rimmer snorted. Maybe he'd choked to death on his own smug gittiness.

The entire Cargo Bay suddenly began to tremble, the energy buzzing underneath Rimmer's feet. He stumbled in surprise before regaining equilibrium as the shaking subsided just as suddenly.

"Holly, what the smegging hell was that?" he called out to the disembodied mainframe.

His words echoed back but the computer remained silent. His signal probably wasn't strong enough to reach the bowels of the ship. Rimmer rolled his eyes. Fantastic. Nice to know that Holly was steering the ship with due care and attention. A Mickey Mouse alarm clock could keep a better watch over things.

The open space of the Cargo Bay before him erupted in a flare of blue light, splitting into thin streams through the stacks of crates. Rimmer shielded his eyes as the glow subsided and dark silhouettes began to form in its place. His eyes widened. Someone or something was beaming on board.

His initial and probably most sensible reaction was to drop to the floor behind the stack of crates just as the transfer completed so that he was hidden from view. Curiosity, however, got the better of him, and he crawled across silently on all fours to peer through the thin gap between boxes.

Although Rimmer had never seen simulants before and was hidden a good twenty feet away, he guessed correctly that they weren't the friendliest race in the universe. He could make out a group of seven or eight by best guess, all towering above him at least seven feet tall. 

Rimmer's eyes narrowed as he studied their features. Some of their faces could almost pass as human if you could forgive the metallic teeth, the strange, gaunt angles of their cheeks, and the slightly artificial blue, almost metallic hue of their eyes. Others looked as they'd caught the business end of a thermal explosion of some sorts, the charred flesh peeling back from their faces to reveal gleaming, metal skulls and neon red eyes. 

Unlike Kryten, the dark metal of their bodies were shrouded with torn black leather clothing or sweeping cloaks. And rather than being armed with a freshly brewed mug of tea or the ever-ready Windolene, these robotic creatures were armed with some rather dangerous looking guns.

The simulant with the charred face and black cloak spoke first, his voice edged with electronic feedback.

"There's lifesigns on this level," he grinned as he regarded his hand-held scanner, flashing a row of metal teeth.

Rimmer's panicked breaths caught in his throat as he fought to keep his body's trembling as still and silent as possible.

Another spoke. "Ooooh Pizzak. Let's have a bit of fun whilst we're here."

"The humans are to be kept alive for now, M'Aiden," the first snarled back. "Killing them on first sight isn't exactly the best plan to get them to reveal the location of the Jadestone." He turned back to his scanner. "After we've found it, then we can have our fun."

M'Aiden giggled wickedly. "It's been too long since the likes of the gonad electrocution kit and the buttock corkscrew have seen any action." He shuddered at the beauty of it all." First dibs my friends, first dibs."

Rimmer's mouth hung open in horror, his head swimming as if he were trapped in a rather cruel nightmare. Gonad electrocution kits? Buttock corkscrews? He had to get out of there, lickety-split.

His eyes returned to the gap between the crates so that he could work out the best escape route. If he could reach the Cargo Bay doors, he could seal them in and run to fetch the others. Sure, he didn't have a clue what they'd do next, but at least he wouldn't be left alone with a group of torturous, homicidal robots.

The flaw in this plan was fairly obvious. The group of simulants were currently stood between him and the forty feet to the Cargo Bay doors.

Bugger.

It was perhaps unsurprising that the thought of spending just five minutes alone with M'Aiden and his prized buttock corkscrew was just the ticket for inspiring Rimmer's brain to step up a gear and work out a distraction. His eyes flitted across the floor in a panic until they fell upon an abandoned spanner lying on the floor beside the pipes on the wall behind him. Lister must have left it there when he came down to check for potential leaks with Kryten. For the first time ever, Rimmer was silently grateful for Lister's complete inability to tidy up after himself.

Armed with the spanner, Rimmer crept back to the row of crates and took a steadying breath. He only had one shot at this, and his memories of shotput and javelin during Sports Days as a child were not doing wonders for his confidence. His P.E. teacher Mr Heinman had always said that he couldn't throw a shotput if his life depended on it. Millions of years later, it seemed that his life rather did depend on it, so he swallowed his fears and gave it the best he could.

The spanner flew quite a distance, although not quite as far as he'd hoped, landing with a predictably loud clatter into the crates to his distant left. The simulants all immediately swivelled towards the sound.

"Quickly!" Pizzak gestured. "That way!"

The group all raced hurriedly towards the spanner's dying echo, brandishing their weapons with relish. M'Aiden hung back silently for a few moments, his narrowed eyes scanning across the crates in Rimmer's direction before turning to follow, shrinking back into the shadows.

With a choked sob, Rimmer scrabbled to his feet. Keeping low and moving as quickly and quietly as he was able, he scrambled across the Cargo Bay and towards the open doors. Rimmer may have been the champion at holding grudges, but even he knew that he had to warn the others of what this crazy, deranged lot were capable of. Friendly, helpful mechanoids they were not.

Only a few feet from the safety of the doorway, something large and powerful jumped him from behind without warning, and he cried out in shock. Pinned helplessly between a cold, metallic arm that held him fast across his chest, and the weight of the simulant's impressive height leaning heavily against him, Rimmer's struggles proved fruitless. He whimpered as he wriggled and squirmed, desperately trying to free his arms.

A voice laced with electronic feedback tickled his ear and he froze.

"Trying to run are we, human?" it purred mockingly. The simulant's merciless grip tightened. "I think _not_."

Rimmer's blood ran cold, his breathing growing more frantic as he struggled.

"_Help!_" he screamed as loudly as his vocal chords were able through the Cargo Bay doorway. "Someone help me, _please!_"

Releasing the death grip on his arms, a gloved hand clamped over his mouth instead. Clinging onto the simulant's arm, Rimmer sobbed silently through the cold leather, paralysed with fear. 

Unfazed, the simulant tutted. "Naughty," he reprimanded, his free hand fishing for something unseen. "We don't want to spoil the surprise for your other human friends now, do we?" he whispered in his ear.

Suddenly the simulant wrenched his head to one side and Rimmer yelped in shock at the cold sharpness of a pulse-hypo hissing into his neck. He exhaled, eyes drooping as the overwhelming fuzzy sensation took effect. "Mmmf," he managed groggily, before it knocked him out altogether.

M'Aiden smiled in satisfaction as he felt the human fall limp in the crook of his arm, the programmed urge to harm buzzing warm in his CPU. He loved it when they struggled, feebly trying to escape. It was the best part of the chase, feeling their fear as they fluttered helplessly in his grasp.

"Now let's see what we have here," M'Aiden mused aloud as he lowered him to the ground. Rolling him onto his back and catching a glance of his face, M'Aiden leapt back quickly as if stung. 

Slowly, carefully, he stepped back over Rimmer's inanimate frame and tilted his head so that it hung loosely towards him. An evil smile crept along M'Aiden's metallic features.

"Pizzak!" he called out across the Cargo Bay. "I think we're onto a double win, my friend!" He smirked at the unconscious man below him. "We've managed to capture the elusive Ace Rimmer."


	7. Mistaken Identity

The lift doors slid open with a resounding clang, revealing three silhouetted figures. Armed with their bazookoids, Lister and the Cat stepped out first followed by Kryten and his psi-scan; and with a nod of the head from Lister, the trio followed the snaking corridor that led to the Cargo Bay.

The barrel of Lister's bazookoid edged around the corner followed cautiously by Lister himself. The corridor leading to the Cargo Bay doors was silent and empty.

Lister took a steadying breath. "The doors are still open," he said worriedly. "Rimmer hasn't left."

Walking as quietly and carefully as they could, the trio entered the Cargo Bay. The cold, damp air hung in silence, punctuated by the rippling of the water tanks and the underlying bass hum of the ship's engines.

"Rimmer?" Lister hissed softly. He hoped the smegger had still retained his ability to find good hiding places. "Rimmer?"

The Cat stopped suddenly, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air instinctively. "He's here somewhere," he said distantly, "but I can smell something else. Something new." He cocked his bazookoid.

Lister quickly followed suit. "Kryten, you getting anything?"

The psi-scan in the mechanoid's hand began to bleep more rapidly, his plastic features dropping slowly in realisation. He turned to Lister slowly, a terrified squeak emanating involuntarily from his vocal units.

"Simulants?" Lister mouthed.

Kryten nodded.

Lister's quivering finger kept tight against the trigger. "Where?" he mouthed again.

There was a flurry of clicks behind them.

"Ah."

The trio grouped together as the simulants slowly began to creep out of the shadows, gradually surrounding them like a pack of lions. Their shaking bazookoids snapped quickly from one snarling simulant to the next, as they desperately tried to keep them at bay.

"Looking for someone?" called a voice from across the dank expanse of the Cargo Bay, edged with electronic feedback. A tall, foreboding simulant strode up towards them, his face split with a metallic-toothed grin.

Lister's lip curled involuntarily at the simulant's skin that had burned and peeled away from his face, revealing the charred, yet gleaming metal of his skull. The grip on his bazookoid tightened.

"Where is he?" he asked simply.

Pizzak shook his head, disappointed. "Oh, and here's me thinking you sorry lot had come down here to save us the trouble of hunting you down."

Behind him, M'Aiden dragged out a dishevelled looking Rimmer by the scruff of his shirt, hands shackled behind his back. Startled, Lister's hold on his bazookoid relaxed as he immediately darted forward to help, stopped quickly by Chi'Panastee growling threateningly in his path.

"Rimmer, man! Are you okay?" he called out to him.

Rimmer simply stared back, vacant; heavy eyelids blinking slowly. Lister's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He looked far too calm and relaxed as opposed to his usual flapping, panicky self. He'd most likely been drugged.

Riled, Lister aimed his bazookoid towards Pizzak, the Cat quickly copying him. "Alright, ya ugly smegger," he growled. "If you don't let him go right now and smeg off back to wherever the hell you came from, we're gonna fill you with more holes than a colander."

Amused, Pizzak waved off the circle of snarling simulants. "With those boys toys?" he grinned, nodding to the bazookoids. He began his slow, purposeful approach, gradually closing the gap between them. "I'd like to see you try."

With a mutual nod, Lister and the Cat fired a volley of rounds at the simulant as he strode towards them, hitting him repeatedly in the head and chest. Pizzak blinked in mild annoyance, as if he were being plagued by gnats that he couldn't be bothered to swat at. As he stood silently, barely a foot away from Lister, he pursed his lips at the series of hollow clicks that signalled he was out of options.

Pizzak seized Lister tightly by the throat and hauled him up to face height. Immediately dropping the bazookoid, Lister grabbed onto the simulant's impossibly strong forearm, his boots kicking wildly in thin air as he struggled to breathe.

"I love the ones that fight back," Pizzak enthused as Lister slowly turned purple. He raised his head to address the Cat without diverting his eyes at the delicious sight of the human squirming helplessly in his grasp. "You better drop your weapon rather swiftly if you don't wish your friend here to suffocate," he chided.

The Cat hissed, baring his gleaming white fangs before dropping his bazookoid, which Chi'Panastee immediately snatched out of his reach. True to his word, Pizzak reluctantly dropped Lister into a crumpled heap by his feet, smirking as he wheezed painfully before scrabbling backwards to join the others.

Pizzak's one remaining grey eye narrowed, the other still gleaming red. "We have been naughty, haven't we?" he tutted. "Not only do you give us a less than friendly welcome, and have the front to hide the Jadestone from us – "

With a tilt of the head, he gestured behind him to M'Aiden who dragged Rimmer over and shoved him forward. Still woozy, he immediately lost his balance and unable to break his fall, landed hard face-first beside Pizzak's feet.

" – you seem to think that it's acceptable to harbour a wanted criminal," the simulant snarled.

Lister scowled at Pizzak. The man was hardly a criminal. He hadn't so much as returned a library book late.

"I'm not a patient droid as I'm sure this pathetic excuse for a hero will testify," Pizzak growled as Rimmer moaned softly into the floor. "Seeing as you humans seem to have the IQ of a plantpot, I'll make this simple enough for you to understand." He shifted into a tone usually associated with speaking to children or tourists. "Either you tell us where you're hiding the Jadestone, or," a dangerous smile inched across Pizzak's face, "we'll extract the information we require the hard way."

"Lister, be careful," Rimmer mumbled, his tongue still fuzzy. He was damn sure that the others wouldn't be overly enamoured with experiencing the 'interview methods' of these dangerously unstable droids. "You don't know what they're capable of."

Lister stared back hard at Pizzak's leer. "I know all too well what simulants are capable of," he replied tightly, furious that even after most likely killing the rest of the Red Dwarf crew in cold blood, he could still carry a smile on his face. "They're murderous, underhanded, and have a worse reputation for honesty than an American politician."

Rimmer was stunned. Why was he always the last to know these bloody things? Here they were, face to face with cybernautic killing machines, and Lister seemed completely unflustered. Were they on each other's Christmas card lists or something?

Pizzak grinned coyishly. "You give me far too much credit, human." His eyes dropped to the man strewn by his feet. "Your friend Ace here doesn't seem to appreciate our efforts."

Lister's eyes widened. Ace? He snatched a look at Rimmer, whose face contorted from confusion to dreaded realisation.

"Look man, you've clearly got the wrong dimension," Lister reasoned evenly, arm extended outwards whilst keeping perfectly still. As if addressing a rattlesnake he'd just disturbed whilst on the job. "First off, we don't know what the hell this Jadestone thingamy is – "

Jadestone. The word tugged at the dark recesses of Rimmer's mind, attempting to dislodge a long-forgotten memory that somehow wouldn't shift.

"And secondly, that man is definitely not Ace." Lister's eyes flitted back to Rimmer, who returned his gaze with an unreadable expression.

Pizzak blinked in surprise, exchanging glances with the other simulants before returning to Lister in a flash of inspiration. "Ah, but you referred to this human as 'Rimmer'," he replied triumphantly. He grabbed Rimmer by the dark brown curls of his hair and hauled him up to his knees, proffering him to Lister for inspection. "His face is identical to our records. This man is Ace Rimmer."

Lister regarded Rimmer sadly. His usually immaculate khaki uniform was rucked and crumpled, his tie was undone, and his earlier fall had given him a rather nasty split lip. Rimmer stared back hard, trying to keep his wincing to a minimum as the simulant tugged roughly at his hair.

He shook his head mournfully. "No he's not," he said quietly. "He's not Ace."

Normally, Rimmer would have been more than happy for Lister to counter any form of mistaken identity, especially if it prevented some rather painful repercussions. Yet something in Lister's words hurt harder than any session with M'Aiden and his instruments of torturous delight could ever inflict.

Many years before, when Rimmer's predecessor had been attacked by the polymorph, the creature had done what came naturally to it when feeding from its prey. It had awoken the greatest defining emotion and then drained it. Unlike Lister, it hadn't been fear – fear of being the last human alive in the entire universe, fear he'd never get back home to Earth – but anger. Anger derived from all of the built-up, harnessed repression and cruelty he'd experienced throughout his life. The abuse he'd suffered as a child, the injustice of all the times he'd been passed over for promotion, and of course, the ultimate irony of his untimely death.

The nano Rimmer carried the same pent-up anger as his predecessor. He had all the same memories, all of the same drives, except he'd lived day after day, year after miserable year, with a different, overriding torture. He wasn't even the person he thought he was, but rather a carbon copy of someone long gone. For years, he'd silently existed in a dead man's shadow, and when it came down to the competition to be Arnold J. Rimmer, he'd come second.

And something instinctive deep inside finally snapped.

Rimmer's face hardened. "Yes I am."

"See?" Lister implored. "Even he says he – " Lister's face dropped in realisation. "is?"

Rimmer didn't break his charged stare with Lister. "He was lying to cover for me," he continued, his voice devoid of emotion.

The Cat turned to Kryten, confused. "Did someone just turn over two pages at once?"

Lister shook his head loosely at the simulant, his mouth hanging open. "No, no, he's lying," he cried desperately. If the simulants accepted that he was Ace, they'd take him away and most likely grant him a rather miserable execution. Lister's face regained control, as he spoke pointedly to Rimmer. "You're head's still a bit funny. You don't know what you're saying, right?"

Ignoring Lister's desperate, coded messages, Rimmer swallowed. "And not only that," he said slowly. "I can also give you the Jadestone."

Pizzak's features relaxed as he released his grip on Rimmer's head. "I see you've finally come to your senses, Mr. Rimmer!"

Lister's stomach knotted. If the simulants had wanted something badly enough to cross dimensions to get it, it had to be something of great value, and his Rimmer had probably known it. If this Rimmer was throwing out a bluff, it was one hell of a bluff.

"One condition," Rimmer added quickly. "You've got to promise to let us go once you have it. Deal?"

Pizzak's features chewed over the proposition before his eyes turned directly to Lister. "Deal," he echoed with a distant smile.

Lister's eyes narrowed. There was something deeply unsettling in the simulant's smile that sent a shiver up his spine. He hoped that Rimmer had some fantastically brilliant plan up his sleeve. Either that or the coward was planning on doing a runner.

Pizzak stepped back, satisfied. "We'll wait here until you return. My friend M'Aiden will escort you to the Jadestone's hiding place. Chi, D'Jhun! Guard the door."

M'Aiden gleefully grabbed Rimmer by the scruff of the neck, hauled him to his feet and shoved him towards the Cargo Bay doors. "Lead the way, Mr. Rimmer," he grinned.

Lister watched as Chi'Panastee and D'Jhun Keep followed, locking down the doors behind them. Without Rimmer, they were going nowhere.

**********

Rimmer's mind raced as M'Aiden herded him hurriedly down the never-ending maze of corridors. As his thoughts began to regain clarity as the Propofol drained from his system, he realised that he clearly hadn't thought this through very well. After all, there was nothing to stop these crazed, murderous droids from taking him back to their ship and testing out their shiny new range of scalpels or something equally horrific.

The pair stopped at the service lift and M'Aiden jabbed at the 'call' button. As they waited, the simulant leant into Rimmer's ear, and he flinched visibly.

"Ohh I'm going to have so much fun with you, my friend," he purred in his ear.

Rimmer felt a rush of nausea. He had a sneaking suspicion that his definition of 'fun' was rather different. 

As the lift arrived at their floor, Rimmer silently cursed why it had arrived so much swifter than it usually did. The lifts on Red Dwarf were usually as speedy as Holly's calculations. The last time they'd asked Holly what the distance was to the next sector, Kryten had to fetch a second round of tea before they had the answer they required.

However, when the doors slid open, his knees almost buckled in shock. He was staring into a face identical to his own. The man's gun was already extended towards M'Aiden's head.

"Howdy," he said to the simulant with a flick of the eyebrow, then pulled the trigger.


	8. Rimmer's Return: part one

The man watched as the simulant before him swayed unsteadily before collapsing to the floor, lifeless. For a moment he simply stood, gun still held aloft as a long pent-up sigh shuddered deep from his chest. When he finally spoke, Rimmer jumped visibly.

"Oh now, that felt GOOD!" he cried suddenly in a strange, unfamiliar voice that rumbled far smoother and deeper than his own nasal, whiny tone. He turned to Rimmer to share his joy and relief as his gun dropped by his side, but he could offer nothing but stunned silence in return. 

"Sorry I'm late. Bloody traffic, you know how it is," he explained happily as he stooped down to the inanimate simulant, his fingers searching his belt until he located and pulled off an electronic tag. "Had to make a quick stop before I docked in the Dwarf, you see."

Rimmer was stunned. Here they were in mortal danger and this stranger before him was chatting away as if they were two old ladies that had just met at the Post Office. The man stepped over the simulant's legs towards him and Rimmer instinctively backed away. The man laughed heartily, reholstering his gun in his belt.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you custard!" he reassured warmly as he approached.

Rimmer watched transfixed as a matching set of dark hazel eyes before him narrowed in inspection as they studied his face. The man hissed sympathetically.

"Bit of a nasty split lip you've got there, squire," he said distantly as he gently grasped Rimmer's head and pulled up his eyelid with his thumb. "And they've given you a shot of Propofol I see," he tutted. "Nice to know that the simulants haven't altered their friendly welcome whatsoever."

Rimmer's lagging brain finally caught up spluttering, immediately followed by his vocal chords. "Is-is that what they are? Simulants?"

The man nodded in affirmation as he used the electronic tag to deactivate Rimmer's shackles. "Tall, ugly robots with all of the social grace of a sewer rat? Then you can be fairly certain you're in the company of simulants."

Rimmer stared at the man openly as he rubbed his sore wrists. Although they shared the same face, this man's appeared younger than his own - an image immortally caught in a frozen moment of time - yet with eyes that seemed far deeper and older, underlined with faded dark, tired circles. Instead of his own brown unruly curls, this man before him had long blonde waves of hair that hung over his eyes in a fetching manner.

The stranger quickly cottoned on and laughed apologetically. "How rude of me! I haven't even introduced myself!"

Rimmer swallowed. "I know who you are."

The man rolled his eyes. "You're right. I'm being thicker than the offspring of a village idiot and a TV weathergirl. The face is a bit of a giveaway - "

"No, no," Rimmer cut in. "I know who you are. Lister told me everything. You left about ten years ago to become Ace, right?"

The unshakeable, confident smile on the man's face sagged quickly. Now it was his turn to be stunned into silence. "You - you know?" he managed eventually.

Rimmer fought a smirk that threatened to conquer his face. It was nice not to feel like he was caught on the back foot for once, especially with his oh-so-superior predecessor.

"Well I do but the others don't," he explained. He folded his arms with smug satisfaction. "Your secret fetish for blonde locks is safe with me, don't worry."

The man gave him a funny look before smiling himself. "Does that mean I can drop the accent?" he replied smoothly.

Rimmer stared blankly. "Sorry?"

"Thank smeg for that!" the man cried suddenly in a pitch-perfect imitiation, causing Rimmer to jump in surprise for a second time. "I mean, I know I've got used to it over the years but sometimes I even piss myself off when I hear that smug git's voice coming out of my mouth."

Rimmer's own mouth hung half open. He wasn't sure if he actually preferred the deep, James Bond-esque tones rather than hearing this stranger hijacking his voice.

"Come on," his predecessor sighed as he grabbed the lifeless simulant under the arms and dragged him bodily back into the lift. "Let's get rid of Captain Ugly here and then go and help the others." He dusted off his hands as he shook his head in dismay. "Looking for the Jadestone on a ship that's five miles long and three miles wide is going to be like trying to find a needle in a male student's flat."

"Hey, erm –" Rimmer felt uncomfortable addressing someone else using his own name and tailed off, but his other self had got the gist. "This Jadestone thing?" Rimmer's eyes dropped to the floor guiltily before making eye contact once more. "I think I know where it is."

The man before him blinked in surprise. "Show me," he replied simply.

***********

Rimmer had thought that once he finally got back to Red Dwarf, he'd feel instantly at home.

But he didn't.

During their approach in Wildfire, his computer had interfaced silently with Holly in order to find out what had happened, without attracting the attention of the simulants already on board. He'd learnt how Lister and the others had found a way to recreate Red Dwarf nanobotically, inadvertently resurrecting the dead crew at the same time. Hence the reason for his doppelganger.

Rimmer studied the thinning dark curls of the back of his nano self's head as he followed him down the corridor towards the sleeping quarters, surprised when after many many years, his long-dormant scowl resurfaced on his face.

Or should he say, replacement.

He hated the way that everything around him seemed unfamiliar. The nanobots had recreated Red Dwarf to its original designs, before the JMC had made all its cutbacks. The ship now seemed newer, sleeker, much more aesthetically alluring. It was even laid out differently to the original. Rather than being on Floor 465, the Officer's Sleeping Quarters were on 547, deliberately set higher on the ship to make full use of the beautiful views of deep space. He wasn't sure why he'd expected everything to be as he'd left it ten years ago, but it certainly hit him hard now. Time had definitely moved on without him.

The double doors of the sleeping quarters hissed open. Although his nano self walked in completely unfazed and headed for the storage area, Rimmer felt a strange sense of alienation as he stepped cautiously through the doorway. As he took in his surroundings, he could see elements of his old life scattered across unfamiliar quarters. 

Dominating the room was a circular table that sparkled with flashing lights and reams of data from the Drive Room, upon which a copy of Astronavigation for Idiots lay open next to some hand-scribbled notes. His revision timetable was neatly bluetacked onto the wall of his bunk next to what he knew to be false newspaper clippings about how 'Arnie Does It Best'. His eyes flitted up to the top bunk where a mish mash of familiar, dog-eared photographs were stuck with careless but loving abandon to the wall, and old clothes and crushed Leopard Lager cans littered the unmade bed. Rimmer swivelled. A half-polished spacebike sat in the corner next to an electric guitar emblazoned with the Union Jack.

"You - " Rimmer stopped, looking back to the bunks before returning to his other self. "- you live with Lister?"

His nano self turned back to return his gaze, his face unreadable. "So did you," he replied evenly.

Rimmer's tongue rolled around his mouth. That was partly true. They did share sleeping quarters for many years on Red Dwarf. But by the time they'd been stranded on Starbug for almost six months, their relationship had deteriorated to the point where they would bicker constantly if they were in the same room. And so they had made the silent, mutual decision to part ways in terms of sleeping arrangements. It had been a decision that he had always resented deep down.

Rimmer changed the subject with the grating of gears. "So you know what the Jadestone is?" he asked quickly.

His other self shrugged. "I don't know what it is exactly or why those simulant things are so keen to get their hands on it. But if giving them a green rock will stop them from killing us all or using as guinea pigs for their torture devices, I'd say it's a fair deal, wouldn't you?"

Rimmer cocked an eyebrow. Deals with simulants were about as reliable as using a clapped out Ford Fiesta to cross the Nevada Desert. "Where on Io did you find it?" he asked instead.

"I found it in Starbug's wreckage," he replied. "Lister said that I'd find the crew's confidential files in the cockpit so I could do a bit of blackmailing my way to the top of the chain of command. I found the Jadestone hidden behind a broken drive plate." He growled. "I wished I'd just bloody well left those files there. Maybe we wouldn't have spent twelve months in that rat-infested shithole of a brig and I could have been an officer by now."

Rimmer's brow furrowed, confused. "What brig? There isn't a brig on Red Dwarf."

"Really?" he replied tightly, his tone stepping up an octave as he crossed his arms petulantly. "Then I apologise, Ace, I must have imagined all of those wonderful memories of getting beaten up by crazed, delusional inmates, getting shipped out on suicide missions and eating prison meals that tasted worse than the rotting contents of a pig's slop-bucket."

"Okay, okay - " Rimmer soothed. Had he always been this annoying? Did he always have to resort to sarcasm and one-upmanship whenever he felt his opinion was being threatened? "So where is it now?" he pressed.

A proud smile inched its way across his face. "Ah, now therein lies the clever bit!" his other self announced. "I knew if I hid it along with my other prized possessions such as my Reggie Dixon albums or my diary, then Lister would have found it within weeks. So I hid it in a place I knew Lister would never go."

Rimmer blinked. His nano self turned back to the storage area, opened the cupboard and pulled open a stiff, squeaking drawer. Rimmer's blank look slowly warmed with an impressed smile.

It was Lister's clean sock drawer.

His other self thrust his hand deep into the mounds of fresh cotton socks and rummaged around blindly. His features lit up in triumph as he slowly pulled out his hand and unfurled his fingers. In the palm of his hand sat a deep green gemstone. Its edges, slightly roughened by the tests of time, reflected the lights from the ceiling in a sparkling shimmer.

His nano self looked up at him. "Is this it?" he asked carefully.

Rimmer didn't return his expectant stare. Instead, his eyes couldn't shift from the gemstone that had been the cause of so much death and destruction. He nodded slowly.

"Oh yes," he replied distantly. "That's the Jadestone."


	9. Lessons

It would be an understatement to say that the 376-floor journey down in the service lift from the Sleeping Quarters to the Cargo Bay was a little awkward.

The pair stood in silence. Rimmer rocked back and forth on his heels nervously, his predecessor tapped his holstered guns with his fingernails in time to the lift music. Here they were, Rimmer thought, himself and – well, himself – taking a painfully slow lift to a gun-battle showdown against some deranged robotic killing machines to the tinny instrumental version of Copacabana.

He snuck a look over to his predecessor out of the corner of his eye. Not that he seemed too bothered with the gravity of the situation. He hummed distantly along with the tune, his eyes fixed on the flashing lights in the window before them but his mind clearly elsewhere. Eventually he couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"So do we actually have a plan?" he spluttered suddenly, stopping his predecessor mid-hum. "Or are we hoping that by giving them this Jadestone thing that they'll just bugger off to whichever seventh pit of hell they came from?"

His alter ego regarded him strangely, still unflustered. "Well first of all you need to chill the smeg out or you'll burst a blood vessel," he replied calmly. "And secondly, you are to keep hold of that Jadestone as if your life depended on it. It's our only trump card. We lose that, we lose everything. Understand?"

Rimmer nodded quickly as he gripped the Jadestone in his pocket tighter. As much as it pained him to agree with whatever his predecessor suggested, his baser instinct for survival forced him to listen to the one person within a five mile radius who a) seemed to know what the smegging hell was going on, and b) was armed enough to take out a simulant in a single blast.

Rimmer's brow furrowed as a thought suddenly hit him. "How on Io can your guns take out a simulant with one shot, yet our bazookoids had no effect?" he asked carefully.

His predecessor smiled. "Never judge a book by its cover," he replied, clearly pleased to be asked. "Bazookoids are huge, hefty buggers, but if you think about it they're only designed to blast soft rock like limestone, for mining. A simulant's armour is designed to withstand huge volleys of fire whilst sustaining minimal damage. Long enough to make balloon animals out of your intestines anyway."

A strange gurgle echoed from Rimmer's stomach.

His predecessor continued, unaware of the effect that he was having. "I've found that it's less about the gun itself, more about the bullets and the accuracy." He pulled out his guns from their holsters in explanation, causing Rimmer to stiffen visibly. "The bullets I use are made out of a metal alloy that's stronger than titanium. Plus simulants are partly organic, so get a good aim to the head or neck and they'll fold quicker than Kryten on laundry day."

"Mm –" Rimmer offered in vague agreement. "Very nice."

"Aren't they amazing?" his predecessor enthused with passionate geekery as he stroked the cool, metal surface with his thumb. "Heckler &amp; Koch USP, 9mm. I love the Match range, as you get 18 rounds rather than 15. Always handy in a sticky situation to have some extra bullets, right?"

He laughed to share the joke with Rimmer who echoed it weakly, as if everyone knew how annoying it was when you were facing mortal danger with no bullets.

"But it's the balanced weight I love," he continued, oblivious. "It makes it so much easier for accuracy, especially when you need to get your shot on target first time." He bounced one of the guns against his palm to indicate the balance before proffering it to Rimmer. "Feel the weight of it."

Something about the way the metal surface sparkled in the glare of the lift lights sent a shiver up Rimmer's spine. He took the gun slowly and carefully from his predecessor's hand and held it at arm's length between his fingers, as if it may fire on its own accord. He couldn't quite comprehend how his other self could get as excited over a lethal weapon as he did over 20th Century telegraph poles. It certainly didn't feel very comfortable for him, but he could feel the expectant look from his predecessor waiting for a response.

"Right," he agreed cautiously, the dangerously new territory in conversation making him feel like he was skating on thin ice. "And the erm, the silver stripe on the top adds to the er - " he shook his head, thinking of the right word, "aesthetics?"

His predecessor blinked at him. "Erm. Sure, I guess - " he replied distantly, before taking back the gun.

Rimmer growled inwardly. He knew his predecessor was trying to be polite, but he still had the ability to make him feel stupid.

************

Rimmer choked back a giggle that threatened to escape. Had he always been so clueless? The most important feature in your gun was how nice it looked? This version of himself had clearly not been in a scrap before. He glanced down at the guns in his hands, noticing how the black and silver of the metal met with a sparkle.

Mind you, they were pretty.

With renewed love, he simultaneously loaded in a new magazine into each gun from the rounds attached to his belt, the slides snapping into place with a satisfying click that startled his other self visibly. As the lift doors opened, he threw him a smile, eyebrow cocked.

"Lead on, Macduff," he gestured with a grin.

They crept down the corridor in silence, Rimmer's guns trained in readiness. His nano self continued walking as he slowed and stopped, his eyes flitting across the walls and ceiling to conduct some semblance of a plan. A surprise attack would be the easiest option. If they could climb up into the air ducts, they could crawl along and drop down into the Cargo Bay itself, pick off the simulants one by one, and rescue the others.

He swivelled to share the idea with his other self, and realised with a sickening sense of dread that his cohort wasn't being as entirely watchful as he should have been. Rather than checking to see if the coast was clear, he'd simply walked out into the final stretch of corridor as if he were heading to the corner shop. His nano self had quickly realised his mistake, performing a rather obvious double-take before hurrying back towards him. Holstering his guns, Rimmer grabbed him by the lapels, hauled him out of harm's reach and slammed him against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed angrily. "I'm damn sure our mother taught us how to Stop, Look and Listen."

Flustered, his other self shook his head. "I'm - I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Rimmer growled inwardly, fighting to keep his patience. If he was spotted without M'Aiden then their pretence was shattered. "Did anyone see you?" he pressed.

Two sets of hazel eyes widened in realisation as a flurry of clicks from around the corner sounded the loading of guns.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rimmer shoved his other self back towards where they had come and the pair raced up the long, dark corridor, the whirring of servos echoing across the walls as the simulants approached the corner. With no cover, they were like sitting ducks.

Bullets began to fly, hitting the wall above his head and sending a shower of sparks raining down over them. Rimmer's head whipped back to see D'Jhun Keep and Chi'Panastee, both brandishing guns. As he watched his nano self stagger in shock, Rimmer panicked. His hard light body may be able to sustain a couple of rounds but his human self might not fare so well.

As the simulants levelled another shot towards them, Rimmer moved quickly and instinctively, grabbing his nano self and shielding him just in time to feel a shower of bullets thudding into his back. He cried out through gritted teeth, his gaze meeting briefly with a matching pair of eyes wide with shock as his shaking hands fumbled for his guns. In the brief moment between rounds, he quickly turned and returned fire, his shots catching both simulants in the head and disabling them instantly.

************

Rimmer trembled as he watched both simulants crumple to the floor, lifeless. Stood before him protectively, his predecessor's shoulders heaved with effort as he panted, guns still held aloft, his image crackling and distorting like a bad TV reception. Two clangs echoed along the corridor as the guns dropped to the floor followed his predecessor, who with a shuddered moan collapsed weakly to his hands and knees.

Snapping out of his shock-induced state, Rimmer raced around and dropped to his knees before the hologram. His eyes flitted over him in a panic, watching as his image flickered in and out of focus.

"Oh my god," he spluttered. "Why the smeg did you - I mean, are you okay - ?"

With a great deal of difficulty, his predecessor held up his hand to stop him mid-stammer, his chest still heaving visibly. "Computer," he wheezed to someone or something Rimmer couldn't see. "Repair signal to max, thanks muchly."

Within moments, Rimmer noticed his image shimmering and glowing, presumably as his light bee began to self-repair his projection. He watched as his predecessor's face contorted awkwardly in discomfort.

Rimmer shook his head. "Why did you do that?" he asked flatly.

His alter ego snorted at the accusing tone of his question. "What can I say? I like your face."

Rimmer suddenly felt quite numb and hollow, as if he'd just been scooped out. He daren't think what his other self had been through in the last ten years if he was prepared to risk his own safety for someone else without a second thought. True, in a metaphysical way of thinking he'd just saved his own arse, but Rimmer wasn't overly convinced that he'd ever be prepared to return the favour. 

He stared at him mutely, rising as his other self gave a final grunt and shrugged himself to his feet. Suddenly he recoiled as an angry finger was thrust towards his face.

"Just - !" his predecessor's eyes closed momentarily, his finger still shaking back and forth in the absence of the right words or, perhaps more accurately, as if he was reigning in some choice ones. "- don't do that again, okay?" he finished eventually. "Look first, then walk. That way you don't get killed."

Rimmer nodded wordlessly. Lesson learnt.

************

The simulant guards now helpfully disposed of, Rimmer pressed himself back up against the metal frame of the huge Cargo Bay doors, his nano self quickly following suit.

"Right," he hissed authoratively. "You unlock the doors and then stay behind me." Rimmer checked over his guns before holding them aloft. "I'll do the rest."

His other self scowled, arms folded. "And who exactly put you in charge, Flash?"

Rimmer's trigger finger twitched as he took a deep, cleansing breath; not for the oxygen he didn't require, but for a mental reboot that would reduce the risk of putting a gun to his other self's head and pulling the trigger. This was getting beyond irritating. If his other self didn't drop this strange competitiveness that was brewing between them sharpish, he'd end it himself.

"Because if you don't do as I tell you, the likelihood of Pizzak putting a bullet in your brain is pretty high," he snapped back in the same biting tone.

As soon as the words escaped his mouth he wanted to suck them back in, his chest immediately tightening in realisation. Thanks to a host of different experiences, his personality had changed a lot in the ten long years he'd been away. Yet after only ten minutes on this ship, he'd fallen back into his old sarcastic and snidy ways. 

It seemed to have done the trick though. With a blank, shocked expression, his nano self had quickly swivelled back to the keypad against the doorframe and hammered in the code. After a second try, his nano self pulled away confused.

"That's weird," he muttered. "The code isn't working."

Rimmer sighed as he reholstered his guns. It was a common simulant trick – hack into the security systems, disable, then rewrite the codes in order to trap their prey. He unclipped a small black disc from his belt and began to whistle Copacabana absent-mindedly as he tapped at the buttons on its side.

His nano self thumped the doorframe angrily with the flat of his palm. "Stupid piece of JMC crap –" he grumbled under his breath. "It's definitely 575-010-27-1985." He paused. "Or is it 575-010-27-1986?" He tried again, the red light flashing up once more, drawing an aggravated growl deep from his chest.

Still whistling, Rimmer carefully fixed the disc against the cold metal of the door and with a final flourish, depressed the large button on the front. The disc immediately lit up red, bleeping steadily. Rolling his eyes, he hooked his other self by the arm and pulled him away reluctantly from his eternal quest to crack the door code, retreating to a safe distance.

Rimmer steadied himself as he listened to the disc's bleeping grower higher in pitch and urgency, guns held aloft ready to fire. He'd done this a thousand times.

But for the first time in ten years, the stakes were too high to fail.

He only had one shot at this. And he was afraid.


	10. Confrontation

Lister, Kryten and the Cat sat in an uneven semi-circle on the floor of the Cargo Bay, flanked by simulants with guns trained to the back of their heads. No words were spoken. Instead, the odd, comforting glance exchanged silently between them through a mask of fear and dread.

Lister bit the tip of his thumbnail as he stared off across the Cargo Bay, unseeing. It must have been at least an hour since Rimmer had been frog-marched away, and his brain now ran riot with all of the unspeakable tortures the simulants had most likely inflicted on the man they thought was Ace Rimmer. That was if they had decided to keep him alive. If they'd called Rimmer's bluff, he had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't end well for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Cat sit up slightly straighter, his attention suddenly turning to the Cargo Bay doors. The Cat had an impeccable sense of hearing as well as smell, and had clearly picked up something that neither the simulants nor he himself had heard.

As not to attract any unwanted attention, Lister's eyes flitted up to the ceiling as he strained to hear what his feline companion had cottoned onto. Against the deep hum of the engines and the occassional dripping from the water tank, Lister could distantly make out a faint beeping noise. He stiffened visibly. Perhaps Rimmer had returned with the simulant and was keying in the security code to the Cargo Bay doors.

But the beeping continued to pulse far longer than the usual 12 digit security code. In fact – his eyes narrowed in concentration – the bleeping seemed to be getting faster, growing rapidly in pitch and urgency. He chanced a look at the Cat, who returned his stare with an equal look of confusion. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the bleeping was coming from a –

The explosion was deafening as the Cargo Bay doors blasted towards them, shards of metal flying in all directions. Almost immediately the smoky air erupted with gunfire; the trio ducking down instinctively as the simulants flanking them were thundered with bullets, falling twitching to the ground before shutting down completely.

In the resulting chaos, Pizzak desperately snatched at the one remaining line of defence he had; grabbing Lister by the scruff of the neck and grasping him tightly before him. He snarled angrily, a sharp row of metal teeth sparkling. He'd been half-expecting this backlash, and there was no way in Silicon Hell he was going back to the Orion empty-handed. He felt the human struggle against his grasp, but his arm pinned him tightly against his chestplate.

As the echo of the explosion died away, two sets of booted footsteps cut through the silence. Lister's chest racked with coughs as he blinked the dust from his eyes, straining to focus. As the smoke slowly curled back to reveal an all too familiar figure, his mouth slackened in disbelief.

"Smeggin' hell," he breathed.

His face hadn't changed an iota in the ten years since he'd last seen him; the blonde wisps of his wig hanging over his dark eyes that scowled openly towards them. His guns were trained on the pair as he stalked slowly and steadily closer, not breaking his concentration for a single moment.

"Pizzak!" he called out angrily, his voice echoing around the dank, metal walls. "Drop him. You don't know where he's been."

Lister blinked in surprise. If this was indeed his Rimmer, he'd mastered the smooth, dulcit tones of his alter ego perfectly. He felt the rumble against his back as the simulant growled.

"Mr Rimmer, I would strongly suggest that you put down your weapons before I take the pleasure of crushing this puny human until he snaps."

The simulant made good his threat. Lister felt Pizzak tighten his vice-like grasp across his chest, an involuntary wheeze spluttering from his lips. He watched as Rimmer's hardened face retreated visibly, concern tugging at his features.

Rimmer's eyes flitted right to the Cat and Kryten who were still crouched on the floor, staring at him with a mixture of shock and fear, and then back to the simulant before him. There was no way he could get a clear shot at Pizzak without the risk of hitting Lister. He closed his eyes momentarily with a pained frown, as with a reluctant sigh his arms sank to his sides and he dropped his guns to the floor. 

Pizzak gestured with his free hand and a less than subtle cough. Catching the meaning with a frustrated growl, Rimmer kicked over the guns so that they skittered across the floor towards the simulant's feet.

Pizzak's face split into a metallic grin. "_Much_ better," he sang. "Perhaps now we could conduct this transaction without the pathetic bravado?"

"Let him go, Pizzak," he replied through gritted teeth, enunciating each word with enough venom to kill a herd of cattle.

The simulant nodded gently in a condescending manner that made Rimmer's blood boil. "All in good time," he reassured slowly. "You have the Jadestone?"

Without breaking his locked stare with the simulant, Rimmer angled his head back to address his nano self who was still shielded behind him. "Show it to him," he said flatly.

Swallowing audibly, nano Rimmer edged his way cautiously around his predecessor and unfurled his fingers to reveal the gemstone. When his eyes gathered the courage to meet with Pizzak's, he noticed with a sickening sensation that the simulant seemed far less interested in what lay in his hand, but more intent on staring at him intently. He watched transfixed as the red glow of his eye flitted between him, his predecessor, and back to him again.

The grip on Lister tightened defensively. "There are two of you," Pizzak stated, the electronic feedback to his voice registering a hint of wariness.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Rimmer's mouth. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Pizzak was almost afraid.

"Can you imagine my embarassment when I turn up to the party wearing the same face?" he replied smoothly.

And then Pizzak did something that Rimmer was not wholly expecting. An ugly, twisted smile spread across his face, amused giggles bubbling from his lips before they opened into a self-absorbed riotous laughter.

"How can something that appears so complex turn out to be so very, very simple?" he asked eventually, almost weeping with laughter. "The _oh-so-dangerous_ Ace Rimmer!" he mocked openly. "The undefeatable hero who, as it turns out, is _oh-so very mortal_. The legendary human that has survived the tests of time for hundreds of years is nothing better than a trick of mirrors!"

Rimmer shook his head firmly. "You're wrong. We are all the same man. All those who came before me and all those who are yet to come. No matter what you try and do, Pizzak, we'll always be here to stop you, don't you worry."

Pizzak's eyes locked with the man behind him. "And what about him? Is he your little protege?"

Rimmer's face hardened once more as his nano self shrank further behind him. "I'm only going to say this one more time, Pizzak 'Rapp. Let him go."

"Oh come on, Mr Rimmer, indulge me for a moment," Pizzak chided, his oily grey tongue snaking out to lick his lips. "In the love of all that's putrid, please tell me that it was _you_ who was squirming and writhing so deliciously on my torture table all those years ago?"

Rimmer froze as Lister's shocked eyes met his own, suddenly feeling incredibly sick. His mind's eye flashed with images of his electronic torture during his first ever encounter with Pizzak, whilst he was still the caterpillar of his former self. He remembered how much pain and fear it had inflicted. What it had left behind in its wake. The horrible, black _thing_ that burned inside him, longing to release its destructive power on that gordforsaken simulant and all those around him. His fingers curled into tight fists as he struggled to keep control.

Pizzak's grin spread to the farther reaches of his face. "I knew it," he announced triumphantly. "I can see it in the way you look at me, Mr Rimmer. How much you truly _hate_ me."

Lister regarded his old crewmate sadly, not recognising the strange look in his eye. He'd always fought off his sense of guilt for pushing Rimmer to become his hated alter ego with the knowledge that he'd be making himself a happier, more confident person. But after ten years of his struggle, Lister wasn't entirely sure whether the man who had returned was necessarily the better for it. What seemed to have emerged from the furnace was someone forged into something harder, yet more troubled than he'd ever been before.

Pizzak bathed in Rimmer's stunned silence, the cogs in his mind turning almost audibly. "Oh dear, Mr Rimmer. The eloquence and effectiveness of your negotiation skills has never been your strongest point, has it?" he mocked. The simulant's eyes narrowed from behind the safety of Lister's face. "I bet the people on Galactic Bazaar haven't quite forgiven you for that, have they?"

Rimmer began to shake with a mixture of fear and rage, the edges of his vision trembling. He could feel everyone's questioning eyes boring into him silently from all sides.

The simulant pursed his lips. "Only just decided to crawl out of your pathetic, self-absorbed hiding place, have you?" Pizzak tutted. "Or have you only just got it through your thick skull that you made the wrong decision? If you'd have simply given me the Jadestone the first time we met, this would never have happened, would it?"

Rimmer blinked rapidly as though he were in freefall. Through his blurred vision, he could make out Lister's eyes flitting left and right as they searched his own, staring as if he no longer recognised him. His chest began to heave as his pants became faster and angrier, his features quivering as they hardened from mortified despair to a murderous scowl.

"The oh-so-heroic Ace Rimmer!" Pizzak pressed, delighting in the effect that he was having. He squeezed Lister once more, drawing another painful splutter from his unwilling lips. "Always willing to put everyone else's lives on the line apart from his own."

With a strangled, furious cry, Rimmer's hand flashed behind his back and quickly pulled out a gun strapped under his jacket; one of two spares that he always kept stashed for emergency situations, and thrust it unsteadily towards the pair. As the Cat and Kryten immediately leapt to their feet in an attempt to calm the situation, the simulant tightened his grip on Lister as he struggled to free himself.

His nano self grabbed his predecessor roughly by his free arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he cried angrily. "You're going to kill him!"

Rimmer shoved him away hard with a growl, not even turning to look at him. "That's the point, you idiot!" he snapped back in the same snidy tone.

Nano Rimmer shrank back, shocked by the severity of his outburst. They may have been genetically identical, but he didn't recognise the rage and desperation that burned in his predecessor's eyes. His focus was clearly on his nemesis and nothing else.

"_There_ it is!" Pizzak cried with triumphant aggression as he stared back hard. "There's the murderer behind the saintly exterior. I'm sure the people of the Exodus didn't see that side of you, did they?"

"Don't you dare even speak their names, you disgusting, murderous piece of metal trash!" he spat, an onslaught of buried emotions wrestling for space on his contorted, red face. He felt like he was unravelling; coming apart at the seams.

Lister trembled with fear as he watched the gun now shaking visibly in Rimmer's outstretched hand. He certainly didn't look like he had any degree of self-control left to give.

"Not content with shattering their livelihoods and taking everything away from them they ever held dear, you come back to murder them all in cold blood," Rimmer sobbed angrily. "Why? Why did you do it?" When nothing was forthcoming, he loaded the gun forcefully with renewed rage, in the desperate hope to draw out the answer he'd needed to hear for the last eleven, miserable months. "_Why?!_" he demanded, tears of anger and bitterness balanced precariously in his line of vision.

Pizzak snorted in amusement, his crackled, electronic voice dropping to a low rumble.

"To see the look on your face," he said simply.

There was a brief moment when Rimmer's world seemed to slow to a stop, trapped in a sea of white noise. He could swear blind that he could hear something deep inside snap.

His other self had clearly heard it too, or read the dangerous warning signs that were etched on his face. With a primal growl that rumbled from deep within his chest, finding escape in the form of a furious yell, Rimmer pulled the trigger.

The bullet itself, however, had already veered way off course as his nano self made a grab for the gun, desperately wrenching his firing arm down towards the floor. The shot reverberated across the Cargo Bay, hitting Pizzak's leg in a shower of bright, white sparks as it severed through the servos and circuitry. The simulant immediately dropped Lister in shock, who quickly scrabbled to get a safe distance away as soon as he tumbled to the deck.

With a desperate snarl and no hostage, Pizzak snatched up Rimmer's abandoned gun from the floor. Rimmer caught sight of him in the corner of his eye and reloaded quickly, turning just in time to see the simulant squeeze off a final shot that fired at least a foot wide to his left. Thankful for the terrible aim, Rimmer returned fire with a vengeful snarl of his own. The bullet buzzed through the flare of blue light that Pizzak had become before squealing across the now empty Cargo Bay.

He cursed audibly as he panted for air that he didn't need. Pizzak had beamed out of Red Dwarf before he had a chance to finish him off.

"Rimmer!" Lister cried.

Rimmer's head whipped towards his old crewmate instinctively, but he quickly noticed that he hadn't been calling out to him. Lister's panicked eyes seemed to be looking beyond him, past him. Confused, Rimmer turned back, his face soon falling as realisation hit him hard. Pizzak hadn't been aiming for him at all.

"Oh no," he breathed.

The dark hazel eyes of his nano self were wide, still staring in shock at the spot where Pizzak had disappeared. His hands clutched desperately to his chest, he gave a pained, airless wheeze before collapsing backwards to the floor.


	11. Lister's Decision

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He could see but not hear the commotion around him as the others rushed to the aid of his nano self; the morbid scene unfolding silently before him as he stood rooted to the ground unable to move, his gun still hanging loosely by his side.

One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.

Lister fell to his knees on the floor beside his bunkmate, his shaking fingers dancing uncertainly between Rimmer's hands still tightly clamped to his chest and his own mouth open aghast. He felt no instinctive reaction beyond disbelief and panic, as opposed to Kryten who immediately set about trying to stem the flow of blood that crept across the cotton of his shirt, the khaki slowly disolving into a dark red shade. His throat tightened to the horrible sound of Rimmer's gurgling, shallow wheezes that fought to draw in air, watching transfixed as his wide, hazel eyes flitted left and right as they desperately searched his own.

Tearing his gaze away, Lister spun around to the man still stood a distance away, only to be greeted the same blank mask of shock.

_One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two._

"Rimmer, he needs help," Lister pleaded mournfully to his old crewmate, his usual chirpy gerbil cheeks drawn and pale. "What do we do?"

_One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two._

"Rimmer - ?"

A loud explosion rocked the ship quickly followed by a second, the crew stumbling to keep their footing. The Cargo Bay began to shake unsteadily, the warning lights sparking into life alongside the piercing wail of alarms.

The Cat recovered fast, but his offering was neither illuminating nor helpful. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded loudly.

Rimmer's stomach plummeted in dreaded realisation. The Orion had opened fire, most likely trying to disable Red Dwarf's thrusters. If they continued their attack with the same ferocity, it wouldn't be long before they located the hydrogen fuel tanks. One direct hit to that and the whole ship would blow, taking everything and everyone on board with it.

A third shot shook the Cargo Bay, snapping both Rimmer's instincts and vocal chords into gear. "The simulants have resorted to Plan B," he announced grimly, his 'Ace' voice now restored. "And unfortunately this plan doesn't necessitate any of us surviving."

The Cat looked at each one of them in turn, searching their faces for a glimmer of inspiration. "Aren't I the only sane one here?" he asked incredulously, a perfectly groomed eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "Why don't we just drop the defensive shields?"

With Kryten desperately trying to save nano Rimmer, Lister adopted his usual retort. "Slight problem with that plan, Cat," he snapped back shakily, his tone certainly not capable of replicating the calm, measured tones of the mechanoid. "We don't have any defensive shields – "

"That's not true."

Three sets of questioning eyes flitted back to Rimmer. Lister sighed impatiently. "Come on, man. You know all too well what a shitty garbage can Red Dwarf was." He missed the strange look that etched silently across Kryten's face.

Rimmer nodded in affirmation. "What it _was_ like, certainly. But my computer told me that the nanobots regenerated Red Dwarf to its original flight plans. Before the JMC made all its cutbacks, correct?"

Lister shrugged, exasperated. "And?"

Rimmer growled inwardly. This man's brain moved slower than the losing team in the Eastbourne Zimmer Relay Championships. "Red Dwarf was originally due to be fitted with deflector shields. It's a mining ship – it had to go through more than its fair share of astreroid fields, and the JMC didn't want a hefty bill every time it came to the MOT." 

Rimmer sighed raggedly. "Deflector shields aren't the ideal defence but it's all we've got. If we shut down all non-essential power on the ship – heating, lighting, doors, everything – we can get Holly to concentrate all the power into upping the shields, boosting the engines, and getting the ship clear."

The Cat snapped his fingers and pointed towards Rimmer. "I'm with that dude," he announced.

Lister shook his head in disbelief. Ten years as Ace Rimmer and his first instinct was still to leg it. "Woah, woah, hang on," he interrupted quickly. "We can't just shut down all the systems. We need to get Rimmer up to the medi-bay sharpish. We need to use the service lift, the medical equipment - "

Another shot impacted hard and the Cargo Bay shook harder, the warning siren doubling in ferocity.

"Lister, give me the Holly watch. We don't have time for this," Rimmer pressed, fighting to keep his patience. He steadied his hands on Lister's arms, forcing him to see sense. "The more time we spend standing around discussing it the more we risk getting blown to bits."

Lister's face hardened into a scowl as he shrugged him off, his shaking hands balling into fists. "We can't just leave him, he'll die!"

"If you don't listen to me, we all die!"

"For smeg's sake, Rimmer, can't you - ?"

"Smegging hell! Ten years older but none the bloody wiser!" Rimmer cried, his voice now devoid of the smooth, controlled tones of his alter ego. "You just don't get it, do you? Years ago we only used to survive the simulant attacks out of sheer dumb luck!"

Despite the severity of the situation, the room fell silent as Kryten and the Cat stared openly at the pair in shock. Lister's dark eyes were wide, his cheeks burning red as he shook his head imperceptibly yet meaningfully at his old crewmate. Rimmer swallowed, dropping his voice to a hissed whisper.

"You've no idea what these simulants are capable of. They've killed thousands of defenceless people – women and _children_. You think just because you're the last human in this dimension they're going to spare you? You're the main prize. The jackpot."

Rimmer glanced over to his other self, an involuntary shudder shivering up and down his spine. It was more than a little disconcerting to see yourself dying all over again. He sighed defeatedly.

"Lister, you and I both know he's not going to make it," he pushed gently, his voice barely a whisper. "Either we try and save him and we all get killed, or you trust me and I have a chance to save you." He shrugged loosely. "Your choice."

Lister vision quivered. He knew that Rimmer was telling the truth from the sincerity in his eyes, but it didn't make it any easier to digest. Unsure what to do, he swivelled back to Kryten, whose rubber hands were futily helping to press down firmly on the unconquerable wound; the mechanoid's metallic blue eyes returning his gaze mutely. Swallowing, he turned to the Cat who shook his head sadly in response. 

Lister looked away, blinking quickly as he stared silently at the floor. Without looking up, his shaking fingers unfastened the watch and held it out to Rimmer who took it wordlessly, before returning to sink back to his bunkmate's side.

The Cat stood beside Rimmer. "What are you going to do, bud?" he asked carefully.

Rimmer's breath shuddered as he saw Lister's heaving shoulders. Too many people had died. The simulants had practically destroyed him. And now they'd returned to his home dimension to tear apart everything he'd ever risked caring for.

His features hardened. "I'm going to end this."

Not knowing what else to do, Lister patted and rubbed the dying man's arm reassuringly. He couldn't gather the courage to look him in the eye as his dark, dilated pupils desperately searched his, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"It's okay, man," he managed with an encouraging nod that felt too surreal for words. "We're here. You'll be fine, don't you - "

Lister tailed off as he noticed a dark red shadow creeping out slowly and silently across the floor from Rimmer's back. He pulled away instinctively with a choked sob, unshed tears quivering in his eyes. He could still see Rimmer through the watery lens staring at him with undiluted fear, horrified when the only words that seemed to form in his mind tumbled, unchecked, from his lips.

"I'm so sorry."

The signal to the watch was very weak; Holly's face crackled, buzzing in and out of focus as he listened to Rimmer's plan.

"Have you got that, Holly?" Rimmer asked evenly.

The disembodied head nodded. "I'm already on it, Arnold," he replied through a haze of static before disappearing into darkness. The harsh glare of the lights dropped, immediately replaced by the red glow of the emergency lighting.

"Computer?"

Wildfire's computer had loaded her program into his light bee, her words echoing silently in his mind.

"I can hear you, Ace. Are we ready?"

"Almost. Just wait for my signal. We need to make sure we're out of range first."

"Understood."

Rimmer mopped his face with the flat of his palm. Before he'd reached Red Dwarf, he'd made a quick stop at the Orion to prepare them for this moment. The simulants were an arrogant race, and hadn't even bothered to up their defences or their security once they'd boarded Red Dwarf, so disabling their engines and planting the explosive on board had been relatively simple. 

However, it was this part of the plan that he was most afraid of. There wasn't going to be much room for error on this. Holly had to get the ship a safe enough distance from the Orion before he gave his computer the signal to detonate. He hoped and prayed that Theo's device would live up to his destructive reputation. He hoped and prayed even harder that the deflector shields held out long enough for them to find out.

The Cargo Bay shuddered once more as another volley of fire hit the ship, but the impact felt slightly more muffled than before. The shields were taking a lot of the force, but the kick-back resonance was still damaging the hull.

Holly's pixellated face pulsed in and out of focus on the watch. "Arnold, we've lost 70% of the deflector shields. We don't have long."

"Ace, I calculate we're six clicks from the Orion. Shall I detonate?"

Rimmer shook his head at the garbling of voices in his head. "No, we're still too close. The shockwave of the blast could tear out the hull. Just hang on."

Lister gripped Rimmer's sleeve harder as his breaths grew weaker and more shallow. "Just hang on," he echoed to him softly.

As yet another round of merciless fire thundered into the ship, the dark, dank air of the Cargo Bay hanging stagnant and heavy, Rimmer's wheezing and writhing slowed and stopped as with a final sigh he seemed to relax, his eyes glazing over sightlessly.

"Rimmer - ?"

"Arnold?"

"Ace?"

"Computer, now!"

The shockwave felt even more devastating than the simulant's attacks as the blast shook Red Dwarf forcefully before dying away into eerie silence. 

"The Orion has been destroyed, Ace," the computer confirmed quietly. 

Rimmer's eyelids blinked slow and heavy. For such a momentus, conclusive finality to his ten year struggle, the moment felt strangely hollow. The wailing of the sirens faded away, leaving the room bathed in the deep red glow of the emergency lights.

"Rimmer - ?" Lister called for a second time, his voice echoing across the now silent Cargo Bay.

Rimmer watched with a strange sense of detachment as Kryten's cubed fingers wordlessly pressed to the neck of his other self, and with a solemn drop of the head gently closed the dead man's eyes. He tried to swallow but his throat felt sandpaper dry.

_One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-three._

Lister's eyes burned into him as he stared straight back, the angry tears now flowing freely and silently down his face.

They may have only been a few feet apart. But in all the years he'd been gone, hundreds and thousands of light years away, the distance between them had never felt so wide.


	12. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my Uncle Lennie who died just before I began writing this chapter.
> 
> Bye Uncle Len. We miss you.

Yet another relentless day 'dawned' on the Dwarf; a day much like any of the hundreds before it.

The deep, throbbing hum of the ship's engines, the buzzing flicker of the ancient lighting, the distant whirring of the skutters hissing up and down the corridors. Everything about Lister's surroundings that morning had been exactly the same as it had been for the past eight long years, bar one thing.

He was gone.

The bottom bunk was pristeen. Untouched. Left just as it had been the day he'd died. And that was the part that seemed so deeply unfair and unjust. How someone could just _leave_. And worst still, how everything would just continue on without them. The space that had been left behind, the silence of the gaping, cavernous void, was unbearable. Yet in the universe's grand scheme of things, unnoticed.

Nobody had seen his predecessor for the last couple of days. According to Holly, he'd been wandering aimlessly along the maze of corridors that snaked for miles from one end of the ship to the other. It was now his turn to become the ghost; the echoed image that haunted the cold, lonely corridors.

At first, Lister had been glad that he'd kept his distance, not even wanting to look him in the face, let alone engage him in conversation. Yet as the anger and injustice of those terrible events subsided to the grief and reflection, he'd slowly begun to realise how much of a risk Rimmer had taken by coming back. He'd given his all to save them, and lost himself in the process.

And now as he stood in the Remembrance Garden, dressed in his pressed white shirt, black-tailed jacket and tie, coupled with his oil-stained khakis, he wanted more than anything for him to be there.

He felt someone tap him gently on the arm, jumping visibly at the unexpected touch.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really do think we should start," the mechanoid pressed gently. "It's been almost 50 minutes. I don't think that he's coming."

Lister's gaze flitted across to the closed doors of the Garden before returning to Kryten with a sigh and nodding wordlessly. Straightening his jacket with a clearing of the throat, he stepped up to stand by the gravestone and turned to face the pitifully small congregation. 

Echoing the events of ten years before at the original Rimmer's 'funeral', three chairs sat next to one another to face him. Kryten sat in one, the Cat in another, dressed in an immaculate, black-sequinned suit that wouldn't look out of place at the finals of Come Jiving. But this time the third seat was empty.

Waves of grief pulsed through him. Last time they'd held a funeral service for Rimmer, he'd at least known that the man they'd been mourning wasn't dead, but being reborn. The eulogy had been mere lip-service to a man that teetered teasingly on the precipace of friendship. Yet now, as he stood uncertainly beside the gravestone looking out at the expectant faces staring back at him, the whole event felt helplessly caught between surreal disbelief and gravitas of the stark reality.

He was gone. And all of his curious little habits had died with him.

The way he would obsessively organise everything that lay idle - from his pen collection to the ship's food stocks - in order to maintain some form of control and order around him. The way he would always try and better himself career-wise by poring over his textbooks on astronavigation, even years since the rest of the crew had abandoned Red Dwarf leaving no form of higher authority to answer to. The way he used to frown and screw up his nose when he was concentrating. All of these little indiosyncrasies had been automatically logged by Holly ever since he'd been nanobotically regnerated, and digitally stored as a large, complex data file. But without the hardware to host it, his predecessor having already been generated from Red Dwarf's single, precious light bee, Arnold J. Rimmer was a collection of memories and nothing more.

"Arnold Rimmer was - " Lister paused uncertainly. He knew they'd never quite seen eye to eye and had locked swords on more than one occasion over the years, but he couldn't help but smile as distant, half-forgotton memories tickled him. He remembered how the pair of them had often passed the long, dull hours in the Tank by seeking revenge on the guards and officers through pathetic yet deeply satisfying pranks. How he'd seen a completely different side to this nano version of his old bunkmate; a man who channelled his frustrations of being rejected from a heirarchy he could never be part of into joining Lister in his love of anarchy.

Lister grinned. "Arnold Rimmer was a right pain in the arse at times, don't get me wrong." The offbeat line caught the others off guard, raising a small chuckle that Lister echoed. He sighed. "But he was a good man, and he didn't deserve to - " Lister steeled himself. "And as much as he tried to hide it, he did care. He cared a lot more than he would ever have let on if he were still - "

The word caught in his throat as he glanced down at the collection of photographs that now surrounded the gravestone. Kryten had spent hours downloading the pictures from the ship's personnel files to add as random an assortment as possible of the now dead crew of Red Dwarf - the best method of equality amongst the varying ranks. Lister's eyes flitted across the still, silent faces that stared back at him, unseeing. So many people had died. Far too many people had died. And now here he was, alone again as the Last Human.

Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head loosely, his lip quivering. "He's gone. He's really gone," he mumbled mournfully.

Kryten half-stood to console him and continue the eulogy but Lister quickly waved him back. It seemed only right that it should be himself to commemerate the man who had not only kept him going over the last eight years, but had kept his secret safe from the others. He'd died trying to live up to the man he thought he ought to be - his predecessor.

Wiping away the tears with the cuffs of his shirt, Lister drew a ragged breath and glanced back up to the others to return to his eulogy. The words instantly caught in his throat as his gaze shifted focus to see Rimmer stood motionless at the door to the Remembrance Garden, staring mutely at him through the glass. His dark, hazel eyes were now shadowed with grief, the sparkle in his eye that once reflected the overly zealous polished shine to his boots now faded. Now he simply stood and watched; a silent ghost looking back on a life long gone.

Lister tried to swallow but couldn't, his entire body frozen cold. Instead, he tipped his head back almost imperceptibly; a wordless gesture of invitaton to join them in their mourning. An olive branch proffered in the wake of the terrible events a few days before. But the man behind the glass shook his head slowly, his eyes closing in a pained frown before turning to walk away.

Lister's vision quivered as a sigh shuddered deep from his chest. He'd clearly made his decision.

"Arnold Rimmer was an amazing man," he managed quietly. He blinked unsteadily at the now empty doors before him. "And I'll miss him more than I can say."

As Lister turned away from the others to converse silently with the twinkling stars outside the dome's glass, Kryten glanced over his shoulder to the doors behind him, his plastic features furrowed gently. Seeing nothing, he turned back and drummed his cubed fingers on his chestplate absently.

************

Rimmer sat alone in the darkness of the Science Room, panting visibly as the screens surrounding him reeled with information. The strange, green glow from the text reflected in the glass of the test tubes that sat in a metal rack on a table to his right. The table itself was littered with papers; Kryten's latest research no doubt. He grit his teeth as another lash of pain resonated from his chest before fading away into nothingness once more.

"Ace, are you - ?"

Rimmer waved away the disemboded voice that resonated in his mind. "Computer, I'm fine, okay? Just drop it." He sighed raggedly. "Are we ready?"

"Almost. Give me a few more minutes. I'm just downloading the last bits of information from Holly now."

Rimmer nodded gratefully and stared down at the tiny device that rolled lifelessly in his hand. He may have taken Red Dwarf's only light bee when he was first resurrected, but Wildfire had several in stock; held in anticipation of hosting the Ace Rimmers that would follow him. He closed his eyes. Although he'd been trying not to think about it, he had gathered from the computer's hen-clucking that his own light bee was precariously close to burnout after years of punishment as his alter ego. If he could just spend his last few months in peace back home, he could die happy. Or at least content.

"Ace, we're ready now."

Rimmer's eyes blinked open from his thoughts. "Thanks, computer," he nodded once more. Pulling himself to his feet, Rimmer strode across to the empty space of the room and carefully placed the light bee on the floor. "Alrighty," he began breezily as he stepped back. "Let's go for it."

A column of light erupted from the floor as the light bee sparked into life and began to hover unsteadily in the air. Shimmering pixels slowly drew together as they formed themselves into the image of a man dressed in his old khaki uniform. Rimmer watched in wonder. He'd never seen a hologram being resurrected before, only having experienced for himself the strange, disconcerting sensation of electronic awakening. His other self looked quite peaceful, eyes closed gently as he stood inanimate in front of him, resonating with an eerie glow.

"Downloading personality traits and memory data."

Eyes still closed, the man's face pinched and twitched as an onslaught of information flooded his system.

"Resurrection complete in three, two, one - "

The generation completed with a sudden flash of light. His nano self cried out in shock as he was hit full on with a rush of downloaded memories and sensations, eyes wide as if he'd just awoken from a terrible nightmare. His head whipped one way and another as he took in his surroundings with panicked gasps, uncertain of who or where he was.

Rimmer's hands extended towards him, steadying and soothing in their gestures. "Hey, hey take it easy. You're okay, don't worry," he reassured in his old, nasal tones.

His nano self swivelled to face him quickly, his eyes searching Rimmer's face, brow furrowed in confusion. Suddenly, his face retreated in dreaded realisation as the memories slowly began to drip through and he glanced down to frantically pull open the buttons of his shirt to reveal a bare, unscarred chest, his fingers running over the skin experimentally.

Rimmer swallowed hard. "Ah, right. You may have fragments of memories to begin with - "

His nano self didn't seem to register this, instead staggering across to the computer screen and staring at his reflection. A horrible sound caught between a yell and a sob escaped his lips as he noticed the tell-tale 'H' branded on his forehead, the symbol of the dead.

"I'm so sorry," Rimmer uttered with genuine remorse as he blinked sadly at his nano self's back. It had been many, many years ago, but he'd never forget the moment that Holly told him what had happened.

He was dead.

The sensation of overwhelming nausea that hit him after hearing those words still haunted him today. He'd felt such a rush of emotions that he'd been sure he was drowning; disbelief, fear, and strongest of all, anger. A livid, unjust rage that burned bitterly inside him.

Rimmer carefully approached his other self and hovered uncertainly behind him. He was still transfixed by his own reflection, staring at himself blankly. Rimmer sighed.

"I know it's strange right now, and you're probably feeling a whole host of different things - " he said awkwardly, unsure what to say.

The reflected face in the screen hardened into a scowl, as shaking fingers slowly and silently balled into fists so tight that the knuckles turned white.

" - but your memories are still coming back to you, so it's important that you just stay calm and - "

The side of his mouth exploded with pain as his other self swung around and punched him as hard as he was physically able. Caught off guard, Rimmer staggered and fell backwards over the table behind him, sending the papers and racks of test tubes crashing to the floor with him.

As the silence descended once more, Rimmer hauled himself to an awkward sitting position amongst the shattered glass and glanced up meekly at his nano self. His chest heaved with animosity, hands still balled in tight fists as he regarding him with unreserved contempt.

"Well," he said evenly as he massaged his throbbing cheekbone, his jaw circling experimentally like a masticating cow. "I've got to admit. You've taken it a lot better than I expected."


	13. Awakening

Rimmer sat listlessly in the swivel chair, gazing distantly towards his predecessor's back. His fingers danced over the keyboard, running over some final checks. The screen before him reeled with green text, displaying the digitised information that detailed every aspect of his now-electronic existence.

He couldn't believe it. He was dead.

The entirity of Rimmer's focus over the last eight years had been to differentiate himself from this man before him; to define his own nanobotically-created existence by surviving, not dying. His living was the only advantage he felt he had over this so-called definitive version of himself, who could be classed as a clear winner for a Darwin Award in his reckless readiness to test his own mortality, if Holly's recollection of events were to be believed. 

He'd suspected for many years that his obsession with not following his former self in shuffling off the mortal coil was far deeper ingrained than he thought possible. His memories often trawled back over his encounter with Death himself when the metal-corroding virus was destroying Red Dwarf, as his mind strained to determine whether he really did knee the Grim Reaper in the bollocks, or whether it was simply his subconcious struggle to stay alive after the vending machine tried to exact its psychotic revenge. Whichever the reality, Arnold J. Rimmer had been as sure as hell he was not going to die young.

Except that particular plan had gone tits up.

His predecessor swivelled back to him. "Right," he began breezily. "Wildfire is hosting you at the moment but I've upped the signal so you shouldn't feel quite so spaced." He smiled reassuringly. "You'll settle into it soon, don't worry."

Rimmer stared back hard. "Everything I ever wanted; becoming an officer, commanding my own ship. All of it hinged on the premise that I'd be alive."

The smile drained from his predecessor's face and he sighed wearily as he gingerly stepped over the broken glass towards him. "Being dead won't stop you from going out there and getting you what you want, you know." He unclipped his weaponry belt and slid it from his waist, immediately glad to shed the weight, and placed it carefully on the now uprighted table. "Took me a long time to work that one out."

Rimmer flicked an unamused eyebrow as he turned away.

"You don't believe me, do you?" His predecessor continued, hands held open towards him. "Look, I was just the same. You feel this is the end of everything."

Rimmer scowled, arms folded. "Don't presume to know how I feel," he said pointedly. "We're not the same person."

His other self shook his head defeatedly, arms falling back down by his sides. "No, you're right. I'm sorry," he mumbled as he turned back to rearrange his gun belt unnecessarily.

Rimmer blinked in surprise at the readiness of the apology, his eyes dropping to the broken glass on the floor. "I guess it's just - " The words escaped before he'd had a chance to check them and he stopped, embarassed. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that his other self had stopped fiddling with his guns and he fell silent for a moment, trying to find the right words. He shook his head. "No, you'll think I'm stupid."

After a moment's thought, his predecessor turned to lean back against the table. "Try me," he replied evenly.

Rimmer sank forward in his chair, rubbing his aching eyes with the heel of his palms. He couldn't believe he was going to admit this, least of all to the very person it centred on. Releasing a low sigh, he slowly pulled his hands down his face until they covered his mouth.

"I was scared of dying," he mumbled into his hands. "Because it meant ending up like you."

His predecessor pursed his lips and nodded. "I can understand that."

Rimmer's brow furrowed, confused. That wasn't exactly the response he was expecting. "You don't seem surprised."

His predecessor shrugged. "Why would I be surprised? It's perfectly understandable."

Rimmer's eyes narrowed. "But you strut around like being dead doesn't bother you."

Now it was his predecessor's turn to blink in surprise. "Strut?" he echoed.

"Oh please." Rimmer rolled his eyes. "Admit it. You're well and truly smug in the knowledge that you're not slumming it here anymore, now that you're playing the hero."

"What?"

"You've no idea how hard it is to play second fiddle to someone like you."

The features on his predecessor's face hardened. "You think it's always been like this for me? I felt exactly the same at first when I met my own predecessor." His eyes seemed to glaze over as he dredged up old memories. "Thinking how I'd never be like him. Hoping against hope that he'd choke to death on his own smug gittiness." He stared back hard. "I know what it's like to live in someone else's shadow, thank you very much." He cocked an eyebrow. "And I learned to get over it."

Rimmer nodded wordlessly, the closest he would get to an apology. He glanced back towards the computer banks as the screens continued to flit through the information on his projection. It wasn't just the situation that was surreal, but the whole sensation of how it felt to be a hologram. He found it disconcerting that some of his touch sensations were duller than before, yet some senses such as his sight seemed to have been artificially heightened. 

For the first time, Rimmer also noticed that he couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore. Not that he used to notice it when he was alive, but it was the absence that seemed overwhelmingly obvious now that he'd died. Rather than the deep, resounding beat that emanated from his chest, his entire body seemed to buzz with hot, white energy.

"Was it hard at first?" he asked eventually. "Being dead, I mean."

His predecessor sighed, relenting. "For years I was soft-light so I couldn't even touch anything." He shrugged. "It was difficult initially but I got used to it. After all, Red Dwarf simply didn't have the technology, so it was the lesser of two evils, I suppose: not existing anymore or hanging around aimlessly like a ghost." 

His lip curled in disgust. "I was so angry about it. It all felt so unjust that it had to be _me_ that had died. Especially when you're stuck on a ship year in, year out with the last surviving human in the universe who turns out to be the epitome with what was wrong with society; a lazy, good-for-nothing slob whose ambitions never seemed to stretch beyond discovering ingenious ways to open beer bottles without getting up from his bunk."

He snorted in mild amusement, which Rimmer echoed. He was all too familiar with Lister's disgusting habits and complete lack of drive.

His other self shook his head distantly. "So angry about dying," he repeated absently. "Even as I left I was still having trouble getting over it."

Rimmer's frowned as he fell silent. "And now?" he pressed.

His predecessor smiled and pushed himself away from the table. "Let's just say I've enjoyed its benefits," he replied.

Rimmer watched as he walked slowly towards the viewport window to stare out at the twinkling stars, before his eyes flitted across to the weaponry belt that lay abandoned on the table beside him. The metal of the hosltered guns shimmered, winking invitingly at him in the low light, and he felt something unfamiliar stir deep within him. Something had changed. Whether something new had come or something old had departed, Rimmer was uncertain. He wondered what his other self had seen. What he had experienced.

As he looked up to ask, he noticed that his predecessor was leaning forward heavily against the glass, his breath catching in short, sharp bursts. Frowning, Rimmer pulled himself out of the chair and hurried over to him, hands hovering uncertainly by his shoulder without making contact. His predecessor's eyes were closed tightly as he seemed to struggle with something.

"Are you okay?" Rimmer asked carefully.

His predecessor shook his head. "God, you're like the bloody computer," he replied, strained. "I'm fine, honestly."

Rimmer rolled his eyes as his other self groaned painfully for a second time. "You're full of crap. You know that, don't you?" His predecessor simply grit his teeth, only managing a cocked eyebrow at the response. "You think you can read me like a book, yet you're the great enigma?"

His predecessor's shoulders heaved with effort to draw in the breath he didn't require as he stared back at him.

Rimmer's eyes dropped to the hand clutching his chest before meeting his stare again. "You're dying, aren't you?" Rimmer said quietly. It was a statement, not a question.

The breath caught in his predecessor's throat as his mouth hung open to argue. After a few moments he realised the futility and his mouth closed once more. He nodded silently.

Rimmer exhaled heavily. "Smeg," he managed.

Both men fell silent as they surveyed the purple shimmer of a distant, swirling galaxy as it inched its way majestically across the viewport window.

Rimmer laughed humourlessly. "You've seen it all, right?" he addressed his other self without tearing his gaze away from the window. "Have you met any versions of us that don't manage to screw up the simple act of staying alive? That don't manage to snuff it before they hit forty?"

His other self chuckled distantly and shrugged. In the silence that followed, his weak smile melted away as he turned to look at him meaningfully. "I know it sounds odd, but haven't you ever wondered why each version of us dies young?" he pressed gently.

Rimmer regarded him strangely out of the corner of his eye, watching as his other self exhaled deeply as he stared beyond him, unseeing. His eyes faded for a moment as he turned back to the viewport window, his mind elsewhere, as if he were searching the twinkling stars before them for the right words.

"Have you heard of a man called Sir Walter Scott?" he asked eventually.

Rimmer blinked, confused. He shook his head.

"He was a writer," his other self explained as he walked away from him, towards the computer banks. "And three million years ago that man wrote something I've not been able to forget since I read it."

Rimmer watched as his other self ran his fingers through his blonde locks to sweep the hair from his forehead then gripped tightly as he half-turned back to face him. He regarded Rimmer from underneath his arm as a weary smile began to surface. "_Is death the last sleep?_" he asked quietly, before shaking his head. "_No._"

Rimmer stared in shock as his predecessor carefully tugged at his hair until it slowly peeled away to reveal the identical dark brown curls underneath. It had been a wig. Glimmering hazel eyes locked with his own.

"_It is the final awakening._"

There was a stunned silence as Rimmer's eyes dropped to the wig in his hands, transfixed. He swallowed hard. "Oh my god," he breathed. "This is it, isn't it?"

His other self shook his head quickly. "Not if you don't want it to be," he said quietly. "I'm giving you something I didn't get." His eyes shifted focus beyond him sadly. "A choice."

Rimmer tore his gaze away from the wig in his hands to look him in the eye. "What - ?"

"This is your home now, and I can accept that if you say no." His predecessor was still looking slightly beyond him. "But maybe if he hadn't have kept up the pretence, I would never have gone."

Rimmer shook his head, confused. "Who are you talking about? The Ace before you?"

His other self grit his teeth again, eyes screwed shut as he gripped his chest in pain. "We were the same person once, don't you see?" he explained breathlessly, his chest heaving. "I didn't want to face up to the destiny that had been staring me in the face all along." He straightened with great difficulty. "I know you're afraid."

Rimmer's eyes flitted back to the guns resting on the table once more. He blinked as he suddenly realised what had changed inside him. What had gone.

"No I'm not," he replied quietly. He shook his head loosely as he gave a shuddered breath. "Not anymore, I'm not."

His predecessor exhaled deeply as the small smile slowly grew.

"Then I've got a proposition for you."


	14. A Bientot

"Goalpost Head? Are you serious?" The Cat shook his head vehemently, his immaculate dark locks shimmering in the light of Lister's sleeping quarters. "I don't buy it."

Lister growled audibly, pulling himself up from where his elbows rested on the table. After Kryten had voiced his suspicions, he'd been forced to explain that Ace was in actual fact their old crewmate, having returned after a ten year absence. Yet the feline before him was having great difficulty accepting this concept, even after the third time Lister had insisted it was the truth.

"Smeggin' hell, Cat. And you wonder why this is the first time I've told you?" he cried, fighting to keep his patience.

Kryten nodded distantly. "We understand the premise, sir - "

The Cat snorted loudly. "I don't."

"The fact that one mortal human being becomes an immortal legendary figure who must be sustained through different versions from a variety of dimensions and realities makes perfect sense. After all, if you count the time that we've spent in stasis, and work along the rather two-dimensional premise that time itself is linear, we've been stuck in deep space for at least two hundred years, if not longer." 

Kryten shook his head. "But I do find it difficult to comprehend that the latest version to continue the legend was our Mr Rimmer - a man often known to cower under the scanner table at the first sign of danger with a colander on his head."

Lister shrugged as he flicked in reminiscence through Rimmer's revision book, _Astronavigation for Idiots_, noticing the perfect, tiny scrawled notes in the margins. He sighed. "What can I say? Ace told him it was his destiny. And when he saw how many Rimmers before him had done it, I think he felt he had no - " The word seized in Lister's throat.

Kryten regarded him through one eye but had the good grace to change the direction of the conversation quickly. "But, sir, how can you be sure that this version of Ace is indeed the Mr Rimmer that travelled with us?" he implored. "This could easily be one of his successors, or perhaps even a duplicate Ace Rimmer. What's to say that two or more versions may not co-exist independently?"

Lister shook his head firmly. "It's him, man, I'm telling you." His gaze shifted focus to the expanse of the viewport window, unseeing. "Didn't you see the way he looked at us? How he seemed so uneasy with seeing the other Rimmer there?" His eyes sank to the floor guiltily before closing in despair. "Smeg - "

Kryten patted his arm reassuringly. "Please don't worry, sir. I'm sure he can understand what has happened. After all, I should think he'll have more important things to think of once he departs again."

Lister's wide eyes met his. "Leave?" he mumbled quickly. His head swam, dizzy with nausea. "W-why would he leave? He's only just come back."

Kryten blinked, surprised. "You said yourself, sir. It's his destiny. There's others out there that need him."

Lister's eyes fell. "But - "

Lister stopped as a silhouette cut across the table. Swivelling, they turned to see Ace standing impassively in the doorway, the blonde wisps of his fringe hanging over eyes that passed over each one of them before dropping to the floor solemnly.

"I've, er - " he swallowed. "I've come to say my goodbyes," he uttered, the smooth dulcit tones tinged with sadness.

Lister closed his eyes in a pained frown. Kryten nodded. "We understand, sir. I thank you from the bottom of my hydration unit for saving us."

A second figure stepped through the doorway, dressed in his old, all-too familiar blue padded jacket and trousers, his forehead emblazoned with an 'H'. He folded his arms as he leant against the doorframe.

"It's okay, Krytie, don't mention it," Rimmer replied. "You'll have plenty of time to make it up to me, don't worry." His face split into a weasel-like grin as he cocked an eyebrow. "Are you homeboys ready to posse again?"

Three sets of wide eyes flitted first left then right as they took in the two Rimmers, mouths gaping open in shock.

Rimmer's nose wrinkled as he turned to his nano self, who smiled back at him from under the wisps of blonde hair. "Well that's hardly the welcome back I was expecting," he sighed.

*************

The white smoke of Wildfire's engines curled up lazily into the cold, stagnant air of the Landing Bay where five figures stood. The scene felt strangely reminiscent of the events ten years before, and Lister couldn't help but feel a flutter of pride and nerves in his stomach as they said goodbye to the newest Ace Rimmer.

"Best of luck, Mr Rimmer, sir," Kryten nodded.

Dressed in his predecessor's clothes - the stone grey jacket, khakis and buffed black boots - the nano Rimmer nodded back with a smile before flicking the fringe from his eyes. The get-up was going to take some getting used to.

"Thanks Krytie," he replied gratefully, replicating the calm, controlled tone of his alter ego.

The Cat flashed a row of gleaming white teeth. "Yeah, you're gonna need it. What with all those unknown creatures and beasties out there, you never know what's lurking around the corner."

The edges of Rimmer's smile sagged slightly. "Right, thanks," he echoed uncertainly, his eyebrows knotting on his forehead.

"Ah, Mr Cat," Kryten interjected quickly. "Perhaps we should retreat back to the Viewing Gantry. I'm sure you wouldn't care for the fabric of your suit to be spoilt from any more of this wretched engine smoke."

"Good call, Butterpat Head," Cat replied as he clicked his fingers in agreement, his face etched with concern.

As the pair walked away, the mechanoid glanced over his shoulder to flash a small smile at Lister who mirrored it in thanks. He turned back to see Rimmer approaching his nano self and decided to keep his distance to allow them their moment of transition.

Rimmer could barely contain his smile as he looked his other self up and down. "Well don't you look the part," he grinned, his arm half-extended to offer a congratulatory handshake.

His nano self smiled back happily to accept, and immediately felt his palm touch something unfamiliar as their hands met. Rimmer quickly placed his other hand on his arm to prevent him pulling away.

"Keep it safe, won't you?" he whispered under his breath.

Frowning, nano Rimmer risked a glance downwards to spot a faint, green glimmer emanating from between their locked palms. He returned his predecessor's gaze. "I've done a decent job of it for the last eight years, haven't I?" he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

With a faint nod, Rimmer let go. His other self gave a small, grateful smile.

"So any final tips you have for me?" he asked. "Any words of wisdom?"

Rimmer snorted. "Well, I was going to say 'never trust a simulant', but I think you've got that one already," he smiled apologetically, before tapping his lips with his index finger in thought. "Hmm. I would always recommend stashing two spare guns on your back, as that tactic has got me out of more than one sticky situation. If you visit Dimension 357, stay away from a GELF called Keano, he's not happy with me since he caught me with his missus. If you meet a guy called Theo, you owe him a very large drink, which Darka will more than happily oblige you with. Never sleep with anyone with violet eyes, or you'll end up with less assets than a 21st Century Icelandic bank. If you chance upon the Blerious region of Dimension 78526, never, ever accept an offer of a Chuniker. That is the scariest drug trip I've ever been on, I can tell you. Oh and if you encounter the Brefewino tribe of Dimension 3214279, under no circumstance should you shake them by the hand. I found out later, much to my distress, that it was the equivilant of saying hi to someone by grabbing them by the wang."

His nano self blinked twice. "In the absence of a pen and a sheet of paper, I'll endeavour to remember as much of that as possible."

Rimmer's eyes dropped to the oil-stained floor. "There's something else I should tell you," he mumbled. "Something important." He met the expectant gaze of his other self with great difficulty. "_Someone_ I should say - " 

He stopped midsentence, as if he'd been interrupted by something or someone that nano Rimmer could not hear. Rimmer frowned, angrily. "But surely he has a right to know - ?" he said suddenly, his eyes flitting left and right as if listening to the unseen side of an argument, before returning to his nano self, defeatedly. "Well, if you ever meet him," he swallowed hard. "Tell him I'm sorry."

Confused, his nano self nodded, not wanting to push the subject further. He watched as his other self forced a smile as he turned away.

"Good luck," he managed, before walking back to the open doorway.

Nano Rimmer was still staring blankly towards the doorway long after his predecessor had departed when he was interrupted from his thoughts by a familiar voice.

"Oi, smeghead."

He swivelled to see Lister stood expectantly before him, a large grin splitting his features. He cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Ah, Listy. Come to say, 'don't hurry back', or 'don't cock it up' or - "

"Thank you."

Rimmer blinked quickly. "What?"

Lister shrugged. "I know I've given you a hard time over the last few years. And I'm sorry for that, I really am." He looked away, embarassed. "After the funeral, I felt really bad that I never had a chance to thank you for putting up with me in the Tank, and the time since." He turned back to him sheepishly. "For saving my life in those caves."

Rimmer pursed his lips as he nodded slowly, chewing over the prospect. "You still owe me a Claret, you know," he said eventually.

Lister's smile widened as he pulled the taller man into a reluctant hug, enjoying his discomfort at the unfamiliar touch. "All the more reason to drop in at some point down the line then, eh?"

Rimmer regarded him strangely as he pulled away. "I'll think about it," he mused, before turning to walk away and heading towards Wildfire.

Lister chuckled to himself as he watched him go. "Yeah, I'll miss you too," he replied under his breath.

The Holly watch strapped to his wrist gave a small whistle to attract Lister's attention and he brought it up to face height.

"You need something, Hol?"

The voice that replied in the place of Holly's usual London twang was unfamiliar; her low, sensual tones tinged with a sense of urgency.

"Excuse me for interrupting your goodbyes. I am the computer onboard the Wildfire. I presume I am speaking with David Lister?"

"The one and only," Lister nodded in confirmation.

A distant sigh rippled through the computer's modem. "Then I apologise in advance, but I have something important that I need you to do. It's about the Rimmer who has returned to you."

Lister's brow pinched in concern. "What about him?"

"I know he'd never ask it of you, but he urgently needs your help."


	15. Rimmer's Return: part two

I can see him dying.  
I don't wanna do this anymore.  
I don't wanna be the reason why.  
Everytime I walk out the door,  
I see him die a little more inside.  
I don't wanna hurt him anymore.  
I don't wanna take away his life.  
I don't wanna be  
A murderer.

\- Rhianna, Unfaithful

*************************

Lister was in a daze.

The dark, abandoned corridors that snaked their way around the ship now mapped out the oft-beaten paths and half-forgotten memories of his mind, as he wandered aimlessly through the metal maze. As he trudged slowly on, fragments of old conversations and distant images flitted teasingly across his mind's eye of the many years that had passed between them. 

With the computer's instructions still echoing in his ears, he knew exactly what he had to do, but had a terrible fear of doing it. Clutching the small, battered laptop to his chest, he pressed on with renewed resolve, telling himself that everything would soon be back to normal. If it could dare be called such.

As the double doors to the Sleeping Quarters hissed open to let him through, Rimmer jumped visibly as he quickly swivelled to face him from where he stood at the bookcase grasping a book in Esperanto.

"Oh, hey!" Rimmer said quickly. He flashed a cursory, embarassed glance at the book in his hand before replacing it on the shelf. "Sorry, I was just - "

Lister interrupted him with a shake of the head. "No, it's okay, man," he assured.

It was disconcerting to see someone rifling through a dead man's possessions, but one could argue that the ghost before him was merely reclaiming what was once his. With a grateful nod, Rimmer turned his attentions back to the bookshelf, his fingers running across the worn spines that punctuated the far older chapters of his life.

Lister pulled up a swivel chair at the central table and opened up the laptop before him. Checking to see that Rimmer was still preoccupied, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small computer slug that Wildfire's mainframe had given him, and slotted it into the side of the laptop. The screen immediately illuminated with an eerie green glow as reams of text signified that the program was loading as it began the arduous task of connecting remotely to the Hologram Projection Suite. True to form, a series of error messages flashed before him, apologising for the poor wireless signal.

"Argh, stupid piece of JMC crap - " Lister muttered under his breath.

Rimmer glanced over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Lister gave an amused snort as if to mask his nerves. "I promised Holly I'd go through his database and delete some old trash files," he lied. "But the wireless connection is about as dodgy as some of Khakhkhahakhkkakhak's moves on our wedding night."

A smirk tugged at the side of Rimmer's mouth before an amused giggle spluttered forth helplessly. Lister echoed his giggle but with a distinct air of distant puzzlement, the joke seemingly lost on him.

"What? What's so funny?"

Rimmer shook his head apologetically. "Sorry," he laughed, as he replaced a book detailing 1001 Famous Chat Up Lines on the shelf. "But I'm fairly sure you meant Khahkakakhakakhak instead, right?"

"Rimmer, they both sound like inbred country villages in the lost Welsh lowlands. What's the difference?"

Rimmer folded his arms loosely and shrugged as he turned to face him. "Well, the latter means 'The Feel in the Air Before it Rains', which is probably her preferred name. The former intimates that you like to - " He smirked helplessly once more. "Well, let's just say I didn't realise you were that way inclined to swamp rats."

Lister grimaced at the cheap shot. "Smeg off, Rimmer. You always have to - " he paused as the realisation eventually filtered through the tangle of retaliating insults ready to fire. "Hang on. You speak Kinitowawi?"

The smirk drained from Rimmer's face as his cheeks flushed red. "Well, I guess. A bit." The tip of his boot scuffed at the floor, embarassed. "It's a programme in my light bee that translates a small handful of GELF languages. Enough to get by. 'Where's the train station?' 'How much is this cup of tea?' 'Please don't skin me alive, I've come to help you.' You know, the usual stuff. Apparantly, I have a terrible accent."

Lister stared at him openly, taken aback at Rimmer's apparant display of modesty. "So did you meet my missus in this other dimension?" he asked eventually with a grin.

Rimmer nodded. "A rival GELF tribe had kidnapped her. I fought alongside the Kinitowawi in the battle to get her back."

"Really?" Lister was shocked. The old Rimmer would have run screaming for the hills at the first sign of a scuffle.

"A chance to experience the famous Kinitowawi morkhta first hand? I'd be mad not to!"

Lister's brow furrowed in confusion. "Morkhta?"

"A battle cry," Rimmer explained. "Like a cross between a Masai war chant and a Maori hakka." He thrust forth his arm across his chest as if holding a shield. "Si hata! Si morta! _It is life! It is death!_" he cried, first in Kinitowawi and then translating for Lister's benefit.

"Amazing - " Lister nodded absently, before turning back to the laptop and continuing to type surreptitiously. He knew that Rimmer was a huge war geek, and would once spend hours in the evenings aboard Red Dwarf playing Risk or reading war diaries. But it seemed incredibly disconcerting to know that he'd actually seen battle. And, slightly more worryingly, enjoyed it.

Rimmer beat his chest with his brandished fist. "Madha wat, seeh lathk do wat mort ha neh khoosa!" He raced excitedly behind Lister still sat in the swivel chair at the table and grabbed him playfully, pinning him with one arm across the chest. "_Be afraid, for I am he who climbed to the sky and fought the sun - _"

Lister's stomach plummeted as Rimmer tailed off, his grip on his chest slowly loosening, numb with realisation. A meek glance behind him confirmed that Rimmer had cottoned on to the reams of text that streamed on the screen before them, as he he stared mutely in shocked awe. Lister's gaze dropped to his hands knotting nervously in his lap.

"Rimmer - "

"Eta suway neh mehina bhatwa."

A sigh hissed through Lister's teeth as his eyes closed softly. "Please, just listen - "

"_And I shall not fear what I see before me,_" Rimmer translated sadly, his gaze still locked with the screen in front of him.

Lister's eyes flitted suspciously between Rimmer, the screen, and Rimmer once more, before taking a steadying breath. "Do you know what this program is?" he asked carefully.

Rimmer nodded slowly as he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the screen, and swallowed. "I was hoping the computer had forgotten," he said distantly. "She told me that there's only two ways to stop being Ace. Death, or - " He grimaced as a sharp bolt of pain lanced through his chest, so merely nodded towards the screen in indication. " - this."

Lister noticed that Rimmer was in pain but had the good grace to gloss over it to spare his embarassment. "You don't seem overly enamoured with it though," he nodded to the screen. "Don't you understand? This will cure you."

Rimmer sniffed dismissively as the pain subsided, replaced by a hot, dull ache once more. "_Quod me nutrit, me destruit_, Lister. By curing me, it's effectively going to kill me."

Lister sighed, exasperated. "Rimmer, it's not like that."

"Yes it is," Rimmer insisted. He glanced at the screen once more. "That program will wipe my entire memory of being Ace. I won't be me anymore."

"But your time as Ace has been so tough on you - "

Rimmer waved his hand dismissively. "But Lister, don't you see? I had to go through all of that. It's made me harder and stronger than I've ever been." He stood straight, hands proffered before him. "It's made me who I am," he announced proudly.

Lister was silent, his eyes searching the man before him before dropping awkwardly to the floor. Rimmer's confident smile slowly sank, his brow furrowing as he pursed his lips questioningly before stopping in realisation.

"But you don't like who I've become, do you?" he managed quietly, resentment bubbling under the surface of his words.

Unable to answer, Lister simply returned his accusing look and pushed back his question. "Do you?"

Rimmer gave nothing in return. The air between them hung stagnant as they stared openly at one another, the deep hum of the engines shadowing the silence between them. Eventually, Lister shook his head in disbelief.

"Back there in the Cargo Bay, with that simulant," Lister explained quietly. "I've never seen you look like that before." He searched his old bunkmate's eyes for a glimmer of recognition. "You were ready to kill him, weren't you? You looked so _angry_."

"Angry?" Rimmer echoed with a snort. "That doesn't come _close_ to how I felt seeing Pizzak again." He tracked around the table, his dark eyes flitting in examination across the various notes and papers that littered its surface. "That piece of metal trash got everything he deserved."

Lister shook his head loosely in disbelief as he watched Rimmer pick up a book to examine its cover before discarding it just as quickly, taken aback at his chilling nonchalance. "That doesn't sound like you at all," he insisted.

Rimmer rounded on him, exasperated. "What's your problem? Why are you trying to paint me as the bad guy in all this?" He thrust his finger out beside him as if to indicate someone no longer there. "He's the one that slaughtered hundreds of defenceless people. I simply sought revenge."

Lister stared back hard. "Revenge for who? Them or you?"

For a moment, the accusatory finger remained hovering in mid-air as if frozen in shock, before dropping numbly to Rimmer's side. Open-mouthed, he blinked unsteadily, as if Lister's words had been a physical blow. 

"That's not fair," he uttered mournfully, before his resolve and features hardened and he slammed his palms onto the table before him. "That is _not_ fair! Those simulants destroyed everything!" Leaning across the table, he stared at Lister accusingly. "You really think that every choice in this universe is either 'good' or 'bad'? 'Right' or 'wrong'? That day, those simulants made me choose between a death sentence for you or the people of the Exodus - "

Lister watched as the anger drained from Rimmer's face. In its wake, the nightmares of that terrible decision began to creep out from the shadows, haunting his features. As his head drooped forward with a ragged, defeated sigh, a small part of Lister glimmered with a distant realisation that part of his old bunkmate had still survived.

"And you've not been able to forgive yourself ever since," Lister nodded, understanding. He paused awkwardly, remembering the computer's recollection of events. "Is that why you drink?" he asked carefully.

Rimmer's head raised slowly, returning his gaze through shadowed eyes before he pushed away from the table.

"Don't you dare judge me," he growled. "You don't even know me anymore."

Lister returned his hurtful stare. "No," he concurred sadly. "I don't."

Tearing his gaze away, Rimmer paced up and down beside the viewport window like a caged lion, his face like thunder. "Who are you to judge how I cope with it all, anyway?" he muttered angrily. "They'd practically killed me." He dragged quivering fingers through the curls of his hair and gripped hard. "I needed a few days to straighten my head out, that's all - "

"Rimmer," Lister cut in emphatically as he crossed the room slowly to close the gap between them. "The computer said that you haven't been Ace for the last year now."

Shocked, Rimmer swivelled to face him, his face flushed with embarassment. "Wow, is there anything the computer didn't tell you?" he laughed nervously as he tugged harder at his hair. Suddenly, he doubled up in agony as a hot, stabbing pain lanced through his chest once more. He struggled to keep on his feet as he panted visibly, his shoulders heaving with effort.

Lister couldn't ignore it any longer. "Rimmer, can't you see it's destroying you?" he implored. "Wildfire's computer told me that the other Aces had an average survival rate of three or four years max. You've been doing this for almost ten years. It's wearing you down." He fell silent for a moment as he recalled the computer's explanation. "It's not a hardware problem, it's the memory data, it can't cope. It's the human equivilant of a breakdown." He extended an uncertain hand towards Rimmer's shoulder. "Let me help you."

Rimmer batted the hand away weakly. "Just leave me alone," he spat back, as with great difficulty he turned away to lean against the glass of the viewport window. "I don't need help and I don't need pity. Especially from you."

Lister stared at his back, incredulous. "You're being ridiculous, Rimmer. You can't keep punishing yourself like this." When no reply came, his voice dropped to a murmur as he regarded him sadly. "The computer says your lightbee is dangerously close to burnout. She's given you six, maybe seven weeks to live if we don't erase the affected memory data."

The pair fell silent once more. Rimmer gazed out at the depths of space, his eyes flitting over each of the stars that twinkled silently back at him.

"When I left," he began quietly, "I thought we'd seen it all, you know?" He shook his head with a distant smile. "There's so much out there, you can't even begin to imagine. The things I've seen!"

The icy cold glass buzzed with energy against the slick, hot sweat that glistened his forehead, shaking loose a flurry of memories. Slowly, his look of contentment sagged under the weight of the dark nightmares that began to return. Violent, black images that still haunted him.

"The things I've seen - " he echoed darkly.

"Rimmer - ?"

The hologram blinked slowly, feeling himself on the precipice between death and immortality. A memory, half-buried, half-forgotten, clawed its way to the surface.

"I'd only been Ace for a year or so," Rimmer recounted quietly, his eyes staring out into space, unseeing. "Wildfire was picking up an SOS from a GELF ship in the Blerios sector. They'd been attacked by simulants, many of them were dead. The few survivors were stranded with no fuel, food or water, so I picked them up and took them to the nearest survivor's colony." He blinked slow and steady. "The Exodus."

Lister's eyes closed softly in sympathy. "Rimmer, you don't have to."

Rimmer gave an empty, hollow laugh. "They were so grateful. They wouldn't stop thanking me for saving them." He swallowed hard. "Their names were on the list of the dead."

Lister remained silent as he slowly joined him at the window, their reflections in the window blurring together at the edges.

Rimmer's eyes pricked red. "I can't stop thinking about it," he said mournfully, the edges of his voice unsteady. "What if I'd have played it differently? If I'd have done something, said something different, I don't know." He screwed his eyes closed, pressing his forehead hard into the glass as if he hoped it would break. "It keeps going round and round and won't stop."

Lister heaved a ragged sigh. "Rimmer, I know in the past we haven't seen eye to eye, but I can't just stand here and watch you suffer like this," he said sadly. "Nobody should ever have to even make that terrible decision, let alone be left to deal with the aftermath." 

He raised a shaking hand to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder, but something about the act seemed so futile and beyond help that he let it drop heavily back to his side as he shook his head desperately. "Rimmer, please. You need help. We need you back with us." Lister's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I can't lose you again. Please."

Lister watched as Rimmer stared at his reflection before his dark hazel eyes drooped closed in a pained frown. Wordlessly, he turned away from the viewport window, leaving a forgotten hand to streak down the glass before it followed reluctantly. Trance-like, Rimmer staggered slowly towards the laptop and caught the edge of the table to steady himself. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard for a moment before they began to type, drawing up the information on the data deletion and rewrites.

"I've asked Holly to copy elements of memory data from your nano self," Lister explained quietly as he followed him to the table. "Just some past events, not the personality, so hopefully you shouldn't feel too disorientated."

"I noticed." The edge of Rimmer's mouth twitched in a polite smile before dropping immediately. "Thanks."

Rimmer's stared warily at the laptop before him. It was a tiny device, but powerful enough to wipe everything he'd ever seen, heard, experienced, or felt for the last ten years from his memory. And something about that scared him far more than the hordes of murderous simulants and hostile GELFs he'd ever encountered.

"Wait!" he implored quickly. His eyes and hands scrabbled over the chocolate wrappers, empty Leopard Lager cans and status reports that littered the table until he located the copy of Astronavigation for Idiots. Opening the cover, he tore out the first page.

Lister started. "Woah, hang on. What are you doing?"

"I'm sure I can forgive myself," Rimmer replied with a dark, bitter irony. Snatching up a black biro, he began to write on the page he'd torn from the book. "Anyway, this is more important." He blinked quickly. "It's the most important thing in the universe - " 

His writing began to shake as tears gathered in his eyes, the pen falling heavy to the table in defeat as he finished. With eyes screwed shut, his chest quivering with restrained sobs, he slid the piece of paper across to Lister.

His entire body cold with shock, Lister's own shaking hands reached out to take the piece of paper from Rimmer's, his eyes not tearing away from the broken hero before him. When he eventually glanced down at the paper, he noticed that the writing was a far cry from the obsessively neat script Rimmer was usually capable of. It was the final scribbles of a desperate man.

Rimmer locked Lister in a frantic stare, his cheeks now flushed red as the tears began to tremble silently down his face. "I won't remember it. But it can't be forgotten." His face melted in sorrow as he shook his head desperately. "Please, don't let me forget it. Keep it safe."

Lister stared back at him openly with quivering eyes. Clamping his lips together, he nodded.

Rimmer's outstretched fingers on the table curled as his hand retreated back towards him, and he shifted his blurry focus back to the laptop screen. The reams of scrolling green text had now dissipated, replaced with a single line.

_Execute? Hit Return._

The irony of the words ran a chill up Rimmer's spine. His finger hovered nervously over the 'Return' key.

"For what it's worth?" Lister ventured sadly. "I think you were an amazing Ace." He tipped his head forward in a solemn, grateful nod, the tears now running unashamedly down his face. "Thank you for saving us."

A weary smile inched its way across Rimmer's face, warmth flooding his chest as he absorbed the words he'd been so desperate to hear for the last ten years.

"Worth it," he mumbled to nobody in particular.

Then he hit 'Return'.

The effect was almost immediate. Lister watched, transfixed with fear, as with a sudden gasp, Rimmer's eyes rolled upwards into his head. His eyelids flitted quickly as if he were caught in the flashes of REM sleep. His face twitched and writhed in discomfort as he stood stock still, the odd meaningless word falling loosely from his mouth as the data files were called up then deleted, and his memory rewritten.

Rimmer felt the full, sickening onslaught as the Hologram Simulation Suite remotely wiped ten years worth of stored data from his mind. He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, but the voice sounded muffled, as if it were calling to him through thick glass. Hundreds and thousands of images, memories and sensations flitted past his eyes before disappearing entirely. Some only appeared fleetingly in his peripheral vision before skittering away from comprehension, too swift for him to interpret. Others were as stark and real as the day he'd first remembered them; feeling like handholds that gave a glimmer of hope before giving way just as quickly as he fell freefall down the steep slope to the blackness he could sense below.

The last thing he saw was a face. Then nothing.

As the last dredges of the memory data frittered away, Rimmer's eyes blinked heavily as he grasped the edge of the table for support with a shuddered moan. Moving quickly and instinctively, Lister dropped the piece of paper clutched in his hand and scrabbled across to Rimmer in time to catch him before he hit the deck. Buckling under the weight of the taller man, he sank to the floor with him. 

Eventually, Rimmer's eyes heaved themselves reluctantly open, his pupils shrinking and dilating as he strained to focus.

"Rimmer, man, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Rimmer blinked in surprise as his eyes took in his surroundings before eventually falling on Lister. A look of extreme discomfort and embarassment thundered through his face as his usual defence mechanisms kicked in.

"What the smeg do you think you're doing, you stupid gimboid?" Rimmer cried, apalled as he batted away Lister's hands.

Lister's face sank as he took in the old, snidy tone. "Sorry man," he mumbled emptily, his eyes dropped to the floor. "You collapsed. I was trying to help you."

Rimmer's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Well, if there's a glitch in my projection, don't you think it should be Holly that looks into it rather than you? A man with less IQ points than a lettuce?"

"Sorry."

Rimmer's eyes narrowed as he watched Lister wipe the tears from his cheeks with the back of his black leather, studded glove.

"What's with you, you sappy smegger?" he sniped. "Been watching one of those god-awful romantic movies again? Or just caught a rather nasty whiff of your moonboots?"

Lister stood, drawing his hand across his nose. "Nothing, man. Just forget it," he murmured. Without looking back, he headed out of the door and towards the vending machines, where an obscenely large order of lager was about to be placed. "I will."

Rimmer hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, his long, gangly legs quivering under his weight like a new-born foal as he staggered across the Sleeping Quarters towards the mirror above the sink. His mind throbbed and pulsed hot, as if he'd just woken up with a terrible hangover, leaving his memories and recollections vague and strangely hued in black and white. Blinking unsteadily at his reflection, he realised why his eyes and cheeks felt so flushed and slick.

He'd been crying.

His eyebrows pinched in confusion as he swivelled back towards the doors of the Sleeping Quarters and then back to his reflection. He shrugged as he wiped away the old tears that stung his cheeks, telling himself it must be another glitch in his projection.

Rimmer swivelled on his heels to survey the sleeping quarters, an angry hiss whistling through his teeth. The place was a mess. Tutting and muttering incredulities, he began to sweep away the disgusting remnants of Lister's midnight snacking and re-stacked his revision notes. As he grabbed his open copy of _Astronavigation for Idiots_, he noticed that the first page had been torn out haphazardly.

He shook with rage. If Lister had used it for roaches in his roll-up cigarettes, he'd take the entire ship's stash of tobacco and flush it into deep space.

But it was then that he noticed it; the torn page detailing the theory on porous circuits lying abandoned on the floor. With an audible growl, he snatched it up and smoothed out the wrinkles on the table, only noticing after a few strokes the black scrawled notes written across the margin.

M.M.

357240

35.65.472

He blinked, puzzled. It was his handwriting alright. Although by the look of it, he must have had a few large drinks before scrawling this strange, cryptic code. 

Yet despite the fact it carried no logical meaning, something instinctive told him to keep it. So for years to come, he used it as a bookmark for his revision notes.

Indeed, it was the most important piece of information in the universe. At least it was for Arnold J. Rimmer.

For it detailed the initials, dimension, and co-ordinate location of his son.


End file.
